


Armed and Dangerous

by AriiDale



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (Serious slow burn like... hardly even a romance slow burn), Abduction, Alternate Universe, Angry Kissing, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Blood and Injury, Car Chases, Cop Hinata Shouyou, Crime syndicate Au, Criminal Kageyama Tobio, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Hostage Situations, Implied Character Death, Injury Recovery, Kenma is kind of a therapist, Lieutenant Hinata Shouyou, Love Confessions, M/M, Organized Crime, Panic Attacks, Resolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Syndicate Invasion, Tragic Romance, tragic past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:39:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriiDale/pseuds/AriiDale
Summary: He was a vigilante. A careless, playful killer that only wanted the best despite his own bloodied hands. When he meets a heartless, cold-blooded pursuer with a past worse than his own, he’s faced with a choice: Who kills who first?Where Hinata Shouyou is a Lieutenant of a vigilante group and Kageyama Tobio is a member of the Clipped Crow syndicate, and the two are met with a fast-paced, too-soon fate.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 34
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will not follow proper policing protocol, as I am both untrained in such and feel that being proper will not fit in perfectly within this fic. Therefore, the policemen involved throughout this fic belong to a separate agency than an actual police force— like a vigilante group— that follow the law and are in cohorts with the police, but with a more anti-hero way of handling things. They’re deployed by the actual police in cases like the syndicate that will be mentioned throughout this story.

The cop rounds another corner of the busiest district in Yokohama, his radio strapped to his waist while muffled, staticky voices echo through the device. The small-statured man ignores the callouts with different codes for emergencies, seeing as the remainder of his unit was already covering it, and kept on the road for his nightly patrol. He stops at a red light, peering out his open window with both hands white-knuckling the steering wheel should a chase start, and spies several suspicious figures down an alleyway, huddled close in a group. He holds up the communicator of his radio to his mouth and murmurs into it. 

“Hinata Shouyou requesting backup in the third division of town; suspicious actions being taken, parking now to investigate,” he calls, clicking off his audio transmitter. 

“Roger, Hinata, dispatching backup,” comes the voice of the chief of the vigilante division, a tall, bulky, and black-haired man named Daichi Sawamura. Their division, authorized by the local police, handled situations like these and abided by the law maybe… forty percent of the time, having been fed up with typical law enforcement’s lack of efforts in shutting down the elusive Clipped Crow crime syndicate plaguing Yokohama. 

Shouyou, as is the name of the pursuer, swerves onto the side of the road and parks his vehicle before checking himself over in preparation for what could be a dangerous scenario. Careful that he isn’t being watched, he opens the car door and steps out onto the sidewalk, his auburn hair growing twice as fiery in the lights of nighttime Yokohama, even beneath his pseudo-police attire. His navy bulletproof vest over his pale blue undershirt drew eyes to him from passerby on the streets, some of which wave good-naturedly, and many study the badge at the forefront of his hat, which concealed most of his unruly locks of curly hair. His uniform matched that of the true police, as to prevent alarm among the general public.

Swiftly moving past citizens, the short man weaves his way to the alley he’d last seen the group of people, stopping to peer around the brick-laden corner only long enough to see what can only be the barrel of some sort of gun being passed off between two of the men. Based on stature, all seemed to be male and with this knowledge Shouyou pulls his pistol from its holster, one eye keeping watch over the criminals. 

He stops to steady his breathing, knowing full well this could turn ugly at the drop of a dime, and leans back against the brick wall, replacing his gun at his side as he thinks. _Pursuit would be ideal to locate and determine where the weaponry stash could be._ With that in mind, Shouyou brings his walkie-talkie to his lips and murmurs quickly and quietly into the machine.

“Sale of gun parts identified at scene, engaging in pursuit shortly,” he calls. Again, the receiver replies instantly.

“Roger, GPS location active. Reinforcements will arrive post-ten minutes,” this time the voice is captain Atsumu Miya, a taller-yet gentleman and third and command, with striking muscular definition and dyed blonde hair. Shouyou figures Daichi left as reinforcements or on his own patrol, thus leaving Atsumu in charge at the station, but is eased with the confirmation of his plan nonetheless. There was no doubt that Atsumu was already transferring the information between lines and informing his fellow officers of the situation. 

Shouyou stops his mind from wandering too far, instead giving himself an air of relaxation by lighting a cigarette between his lips (not that he smoked often), and easing his posture against the bricks to lie in wait of the criminals’ exit from the alley. Following their leave, Shouyou would track the handler until reinforcements arrived for an arrest. Within three more minutes heavy footsteps alert the redhead of the men leaving the alley, one in the opposite direction and whom he would ignore for the time being. He cracks an eye open and puffs out a cloud of smoke, tipping his hat kindly at the men, who are none the wiser to his goal. They move past him with purpose, being careful to conceal their pockets from his view, cloaked in both twilight and heavy hooded sweatshirts. 

Discreetly, Shouyou falls into step several feet behind them, taking drags from his cigarette every so often; it looked simply like he was on patrol any other night so the men had no reason to suspect him. Regardless, they pick up their pace and make more abrupt turns as they lead Shouyou to and fro for a couple minutes before he almost loses sight of them ducking through the doorway of a warehouse by the harbor. He pulls up a sleeve to check his watch, realizing he has likely a few more minutes until his other officers arrive at his location. He hunches behind a stack of barrels with the warehouse in view if he looked around the rim, and picks up his walkie-talkie. 

“Hinata— in pursuit of suspects, they’ve entered the port’s warehouse number—“ he peeks around the barrels and spies a large, steel number on the side of the building, “five and are aware they were being trailed.” This time, new voices enter the fray. 

“Copy, we’re seven minutes out, arriving shortly,” says Yamaguchi Tadashi through the small speaker. He is a freckled boy with greenish-brown hair, and had “graduated the police academy” alongside Shouyou. He was on the smaller side and his marksmanship was nearly unmatched along the workforce. 

“Roger,” Shouyou responds quickly. Another voice replies, the voice of the force’s lead strategist Tsukishima Kei, a tall blonde with a rather sour personality, though his hard work and valuable skill greatly outweighed his lack of friendliness. 

“Stay put, Hinata, Ennoshita—“ a shorter man that looked similar to Daichi, “—is flanking now, he’s armed with a stun gun as well.” 

“Roger,” repeats Shouyou, checking his surroundings before stepping up from his kneeling position to bolt for the warehouse, spotting Ennoshita on his way over to the far warehouse door. He nods once to Shouyou, who takes the signal to kick in the rusted metal hinges holding together the warehouse’s main door, gun in hand. Seconds later a similar clatter echoes through the mostly-empty building. Soft footsteps tread against the ground towards Shouyou, and he dismisses them as Yamaguchi’s when he rounds a corner holding a pistol, as the two move in from the left side in near-darkness. 

Ennoshita is barely visible from where they kneel behind boxes, but they can see him gesture forward to where a few men are huddled, unperturbed by the ruckus the cops had created. Silently, they snuck closer still until finally Shouyou gave a small finger motion and the cops all stood simultaneously, brandishing their pistols, perfectly aimed at the heads of their suspects. 

Heads turn wildly to focus on the incoming threat, and hands fly to the criminals’ sides in search of their own weapons, though Shouyou beats them to the punch. Swiftly knocking the legs out from underneath one of them, he pins the suspect down as the sound of gunfire ricochets around him. A pistol slides into Shouyou’s foot, and he ignores it, eyes unfazed by the chaos. Ennoshita had gotten one of the men in a choke hold with one arm, the cold barrel of the gun pressed against the throat of his captive, while Yamaguchi had disarmed the last of the group. 

“Who do you work for?” Shouyou demands as he steps harshly onto the neck of the man he’d knocked over. Yamaguchi aims his pistol at the man he’d disarmed, carefully moving towards him, aim never wavering. Shouyou raises an eyebrow at the man at his feet. “Well?” He grit out, the faint sound of sirens in the distance growing louder. He choked a little, gasping for air beneath the weight of Shouyou’s boot, but raised his empty hand towards his throat. Shouyou’s eyes dart to the movement, and immediately he takes a kneel, gripping the both of his wrists above his head. 

“I _asked_ ,” started Shouyou tersely, knee having replaced his foot on his throat, “who. Do. You. Work. _For?_ ” Still without response, Shouyou releases an exasperated sigh. “Alright, then. Yamaguchi, get Tsukki on the phone. Let’s have him identify this bastard before he’s serving jail time.” The sirens were now blaring by the time Shouyou had given orders, and only moments later did (coincidentally) Tsukishima and Daichi burst onto the scene. Several low-level officers emerge from behind them, handcuffs and/or pistols in hand. They run towards the criminals, weaving through the stacks of boxes and replacing Shouyou, Yamaguchi, and Ennoshita’s places. 

“Lieutenant!” Calls Tsukishima from the back of the crowd, waving Shouyou over. He appears at Tsukishima’s side as he pulls a thick laptop from his bag and begins to walk up to the suspects. 

“Yes, _Sergeant?_ ” Mocks Shouyou, bitter that his formal title had been used. Tsukishima rolls his eyes, instead getting good looks at the guilty faces, analyzing their body language and appearance from behind his glasses. 

“Wow, you guys are really ignorant when it comes to suspects,” He states bluntly, typing briskly until three faces and names pop up. 

“ _How do you do that?_ ” Whispers Shouyou, squinting at the criminal affiliation. 

“Well, I have access to every file this city has, you know. And their matching black ear piercings— they’re Clipped Crows.”

“Oh, big surprise,” murmurs Yamaguchi as he approaches, several confiscated firearms in his newly-gloved grasp. 

“Where’d you get those?” Asks Tsukishima before Shouyou could. 

“All the boxes in here have them according to Daichi, but these ones are from the Crows.” He explains, dropping the guns into a duffel bag. “This is one of their hotspots,” he continues, “this warehouse is owned by—“

“Oikawa Tooru,” Tsukishima interjects, eyeglasses gleaming against the harsh light of his laptop, where a picture of the businessman was now shown. 

“Yeah. Oikawa. But it seems like the Crows turned it into their illegal part shopping mart,” Yamaguchi snorted.

“Really? Isn’t he, like, the richest man in Yokohama?” Shouyou voices, pondering.

“Yeah, that would explain why this warehouse was neglected. Probably bought it and forgot about it,” Yamaguchi shrugs. Shouyou bit his lip, also lost in thought. 

“Regardless, we should stay on guard. Who knows if these guys were important to the syndicate or not,” Insists Shouyou, all eyes on him. 

“That’s a good call, Hinata,” Speaks Daichi, moving up to the group with Ennoshita on his tail. He stops to stand between Shouyou and Tsukishima, peeking over Tsukishima’s shoulder at his laptop. “Can you check if they’re heads of any syndicate divisions? I doubt it if they were sloppy enough to be caught like this, but it’s worth checking up on.” 

“I can try, Chief,” replies Tsukishima, furiously typing while the rest of the crew kept their eyes on the officers cleaning up the scene. 

For a few minutes the high-ranking officers chat with the Clipped Crows the center of discussion, remarking about their hitlists and division heads. It was speculated that there were seven division heads and one overarching leader, though Tsukishima alone had deduced in the past five years that there were definitely at least two divisions with known heads: an Illegal Parts Trade division that was led by a woman named Kageyama Miwa by until about two years ago when she fell off the map of the central Clipped Crows database, and also an Underground Trafficking division led by Tanaka Ryuunosuke to this day, though he was unidentified and unable to be located. Suddenly, Tsukishima smiled, a rare sight, and the expression on his face that matched it was downright terrifying. 

“Oh no, Tsukishima what is it?” Asks Shouyou, his stomach flip-flopping. 

“The man you detained, Hinata, his name matches an article in the Clipped Crows’ database. He was Kageyama Miwa’s replacement syndicate head— it says so right here.” 

“Wait, really? And he was stupid enough to be caught on a low-grade trade deal like this one? That’s so stupid,” Shouyou trails off, thinking with what little brain power he had. 

“You don’t think that this was intended to happen, do you?” Yamaguchi suggests, lowering into a more flight-ready stance. The other officers’ hands hover over their pistols; all except Daichi. 

“No, this was a slip-up. There were no forces guarding to suspend suspicion, they weren’t sure they were being followed, and it was probably just coincidence on Hinata’s part that he caught them like this. Odds are, this was just an average night for them. But now they’re busted,” Elaborates Daichi as he plucks his walkie-talkie from his waist. “I’m going to notify the city police force. They can handle the rest of this. I’m sure they’d be one step closer to arresting _us_ if we tried to do this ourselves.”

Shouyou is reminded then of the thin ice all the vigilante officers tread. With borderline criminal track records themselves, it’s a stroke of luck they’re even still employed. The blood on any one of their hands is caked thick in murders, maims, and misconduct of all kinds, especially among the high-ranking officers. However evil their tactics may seem, they ultimately triumph over the true criminals of Yokohama, and so despite their tendency to handle situations inhumanely, their ability to succeed outweighs their methods. Today just happens to be an easy cleanup where no blood was drawn. Shouyou heaves a sigh, tuning out Daichi as he communicates with the Yokohama police department, and working his way out towards the door with a wave to his fellow officers. 

His mind is buzzing on his way back to his vehicle left on the busy streets of the city, and his walk is filled with commotion even as his analog watch beeps midnight. The moon way up above him, full and bright, seems to meld with the neon street signs and dull down to just another overly-vibrant advertisement. He draws his gaze away from it suddenly to open his car door and meander inside, driving off back to headquarters to give his report to their public relations and report analyst. The drive back is equally as absent of excitement, and Shouyou wonders now what’ll happen to the syndicate now that a division head had been arrested and will be likely sentenced to a life in jail. He debates whether or not he’ll make the hit list, or if the replacement head of the syndicate will even be put on duty. Is there even a spare person to be implemented into that position?

Still reeling, Shouyou parks in his parking spot in the lot beside the station (such that it was; it’s more of an agency building than anything else) and makes his way inside past the front desk, which was the only police-like part of the whole building. He takes the left hallway down towards Kenma Kozume’s office, and skips knocking in favor of bursting in and settling into a seat across from Kenma, who simply watches on in curiosity. The catlike, long-haired blonde’s amber eyes fixate on him, and wordlessly he pours Shouyou a cup of coffee from his Keurig, pushing the mug forcibly into Shouyou’s hands. He murmurs his thanks and takes a sip. 

“So,” he begins, “what’s on your mind? You don’t usually come in here as a friend but right now it seems like… I dunno, you just seem off.”

“Yeah. I guess. Thanks for sticking around, Kenma,” Shouyou breaks to let out an uneasy laugh, and Kenma nods thoughtfully, flattening the front of the suit he wore. “I’ll give my report first while it’s still fresh in my mind. Can we talk after?” Kenma swallows down some coffee and sets the mug aside, turning to the other end of his desk to load up his PC. He pulls up a document and nods for Shouyou to begin his explanation in as much detail as he could. After a good fifteen minutes or so, Kenma has a neatly-punctuated and fantastically accurate report of the night’s events stored in the protected files of his computer, and starts on the report for the local news while Shouyou begins to explain his personal problems.

“Essentially, I can’t stop thinking that this is going to backfire. Like, yeah, I’ll be well-off for a while because I’m responsible for apprehending a wanted syndicate head, but won’t the syndicate have a way to get us back? Wasn’t that how Ukai’s murder went down when we first landed jobs here?” The mention of their late chief’s name makes both men cringe, and even though the memory was over a decade old and from when both were still in their twenties, the conversation fell off there. 

“Hinata, correct me if I’m wrong but aren’t you overreacting? That was so long ago, and the only people the syndicate targets are… threats… to their organization…” Kenma blanches. “Okay, bad example, but I wouldn’t worry about it. You’re an able officer here, a lieutenant for crying out loud; it’d take the Crows ages to even land a scratch on you.” Shouyou sighs. 

“I guess you’re right. Do you think the syndicate will have a new head for the Illegal Parts division?” Kenma shrugs.

“You’d be better off asking Tsukishima about that. He’s got all the insider files. Damn hacker, or something like that.” Kenma chuckles at his own little joke, finishing off the last of his coffee. Shouyou rolls his eyes, draining the last of his own cup, and stands from the cushioned desk chair to take his leave. 

“Thanks, Kenma. Keep up the good work. I’ll put a word in to Daichi for you… have you seen Sugawara around the station?”

“Deputy chief? Suga? No, I haven’t. I think he had a patrol in the west sector. Atsumu is around though, if you’re looking for your superiors.”

“No, I just wanted to ask him a couple questions. I was with Daichi earlier anyway. If you see Suga tell him I wanted to ask him about switching to a port patrol. Okay?” Shouyou scratches the back of his neck, wanting as much as possible to avoid his previous patrol line to prevent any accidents with the syndicate. Kenma gives him a pleasant nod. 

“You got it, Lieutenant.”

“For the last time stop calling—“ but before he could finish, Kenma had tugged his headphones on and began the report that would air on the city news, leaving Shouyou to head back out the way he’d come with a sigh.

Shouyou unlocks the door to his apartment down the street from the station, a short walk from the parking lot at best. He steps into the hall and discards his boots, tipping his hat onto the coatrack along with his vest, while removing his equipment to set down on a small table. He undoes the buttons to his undershirt as he makes his way into his bedroom, where he promptly skips brushing his teeth and begrudgingly lights another cigarette that he takes out onto his deck. He checks his digital alarm clock through the sliding glass doors, cursing himself when he found that it read somewhere into the 2-a.m.’s. The city below him still bustled with late-night commerce, of people buying one last bowl in ramen shops, gamblers leaving underground betting tables the vigilante had worked hard to dismantle, only to have them reappear later that week. He puffs smoke out into the night wind, hanging his head over the railing as he considered what had brought him to this point in his career.

When had he given up on a normal way of life? He could have easily graduated high school, gotten a corporate job under someone like Oikawa Tooru, and led a life where he could live without fear of ending up on someone’s murder report. A lurid image of his younger sister Natsu flashes through his mind, of her lying mangled in some back road, or left with hair matted with blood, and Shouyou nearly vomits then and there. She is the reason, he reminds himself. To keep her safe, he had to take this job. To prove to himself that he could take care of his loved ones, and to guarantee that Natsu lead a good life by jailing criminals who might torture her. 

It was a shame that in his line of work you can protect just as easily as you can endanger. It’s why Kenma had his files listed under _only child_ , why nobody in the station ever asked about Natsu even when they’d seen pictures of the redheaded girl’s smile, or in the photo of Shouyou’s family that sits on his desk in headquarters. Shouyou inhales deeply, knocking ash off the edge of his cigarette with one flick, and reaches apprehensively for his phone. He input the password, clicked into his dialpad, and dialed his mother on the phone. To his surprise, she answers after a couple of rings, her tone worried.

“Shouyou? Baby, are you okay? Why call so late?” Comes the staticky voice from the other end of the line.

“Hi, Mom. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure, honey? Is work stressing you out again?” She asks, all-too-knowing, having listened to Shouyou’s babble about his work for over a decade now. 

“In truth, yes. We arrested a syndicate head today. I’m not sure what that means for me since I was basically running the investigation but… I want you to know I love you. Just in case.” He could almost hear her heart breaking from so far away, her and Natsu living all the way in Miyagi five hours north of his current job. 

“Will you visit soon, Shouyou?” Her voice is soft and polite, like she was speaking at a funeral, and it hurts Shouyou to hear her speak in such a manner.

“I will, Mom. Once all of this is over. We just got new recruits a couple weeks ago. It looks like the Clipped Crows might finally be reaching an end. We have leads, Mom,” his voice was growing increasingly desperate, “we’re so close to shutting it down. We can make Yokohama a safe place again, Mom, I promise. You and Natsu can come back, Mom, you both can!” His voice falls from its high pitch, his throat closing on tears as he choked them back. He knew full well it scared his mother to hear him like this, but in a way it helped convince him that he was important, and reinforce that he did this for them. 

“Shh, shh. Shouyou, it’s okay. Listen, your sister has an interview for working as a teacher tomorrow, I don’t want to wake her. Please, Shou, call again soon. I love you, okay, sweetie? Sweet dreams tonight.” 

“Okay, Mom. I love you, too.” He hung up, wanting to throw his phone off the balcony. Tears fell freely from his cheeks onto the cement of his deck with gusts of wind splattering them into odd shapes, and for the first time in many months Shouyou felt vulnerable. He’s regarded as one of the best in Yokohama. He’s a lieutenant and had garnered respect from all of his coworkers… but it was this side of him that he refused to show anyone, and it was this same part of him that he wished everyone knew. With his only friends in the force themselves, it’s hard to establish a good work-life balance. As if being in constant danger wasn’t enough, of course. 

Shouyou drops the cigarette into a dish and bent the butt until he was sure the embers were out, wiping his eyes with his other hand as he did so. He slides open the door to his bedroom again and strips himself down, tossing the clothes into a pile at the foot of his bed. As he lay awake with his mind swimming, he catches sight of some birds that land on his porch railing, huddling close against the wind. 

Shouyou forces himself to turn away from the sight, clutching a spare pillow tight to his chest, a deep longing for company settling into his heart as he fell into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have questions/comments/art you’d like to share (if you tweet me fanart or concept art of this fic I will adore you forever) here’s my [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/AriiDale)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can’t tell already, this contains a lot of essence from Bungo Stray Dogs and Cowboy Bebop. Dunno if that was obvious...

The very next morning, Shouyou settles down in front of his TV, his favorite Yokohama news anchor chattering on about who-knows-what as he downs an entire two coffees in preparation for his workday. He plans to talk with Suga about switching his patrol route today, but not before clocking in and talking things over with the other recruits. If possible, he also wants to delegate some lesser officers to his old route in order to preserve a healthy work environment with the current officers who held important positions… as primal as that way of thinking seems. As he recounts the outcomes of such a request, his thoughts dissolve upon hearing his name spoken from the honeyed voice of the news anchor, plastic smile all the same as she gave the report.

“ _Last night Hinata Shouyou of the Yokohama extended police force_ —“ as the vigilantes went by, “— _managed to detain and arrest a wanted criminal in cohorts with the local crime syndicate. The arrest resulted in a shut down of a syndicate-run storage warehouse that held in it countless firearms which were confiscated by the primary police force as of last night and this morning._ ” Having heard enough of his “noble efforts,” Shouyou reaches for his TV remote and hastily shuts off the cursed machine, slamming the rest of his breakfast (grilled fish) down and standing from his kotatsu. He nears the door and dons his uniform and equipment before leaving his apartment with great haste to start on his walk to the station a few blocks down. Anxiety gushes through his veins, clouding his mind until he’s near-jogging thoughtlessly into the station foyer, earning some questionable glances from their receptionist Yachi Hitoka and finance manager Kiyoko Shimizu. The tiny blonde receptionist squints with her rounded eyes at the incoming redhead, a confused expression on her sphere-ish features, whereas the tall, black-haired woman in charge of his paycheck glares at him from behind her wire-rim glasses. He waves at both before stopping in front of the desk to scratch absentmindedly at his neck.

“Hinata? You okay?” Yachi asks when Kiyoko finally shuts the door to her office down the right hallway. Shouyou shrugs, heaving labored breaths caused by his early-morning sprint.

“I won’t be until I’ve spoken to Deputy Chief. Is he in?” His voice sounds alien, like he wasn’t really there at all, and laced heavily with short gasps. 

“Yeah. He and Daichi are in his office. Apparently a couple of minutes ago there was a broadcast. Someone in the force had a bounty placed on their head by the syndicate. Crazy, ri—“ But that was all the confirmation Shouyou needed as he ran without another word from her desk to throw open the door to his superior’s office and shut it behind him. Two pairs of eyes turn on him, striking in ferocity and dangerously worried. Brown eyes half-hidden behind silver hair catch his own, and it’s all too-telling for Shouyou that he forces himself to sit down in the uncomfortable “interrogation chair” misbehaving officers typically occupy. Sugawara slumps further down on top of Daichi’s desk, a long sigh erupting from his lungs. Shouyou thinks he might pass out, though he isn’t sure of what yet; his crippling anxiety, or from his stress-induced run to the station. 

“Hinata—“ starts Sugawara, looking to Daichi for assistance and unable to meet Shouyou’s eyes. 

“It’s me, isn’t it?” He interrupts sharply, his body language telling like he might pull his gun on his friends. Nobody replies for several moments. The air of the room begins to sting Shouyou’s delicate face. He had known something would go wrong. His intuition has never lied to him. He inhales a shaky breath. “How much?” He asks.

“Five million yen,” answers Daichi this time, unwilling to look up from the stack of papers splayed on his desk, where in USD an amount of about $50,000 was listed, among other conversions. “The syndicate hacked into the local news again, to announce it…”

“So what do we do?” Inquires Shouyou suddenly, looking up for the first time with a glassy look and eyes like waterfalls, face reddened from sheer exertion, but quickly increasing in intensity from the onslaught of tears.. 

“We give you time to think, first and foremost, Lieutenant. You’re obviously not in a state of mind to handle this right now. We know you better than to let you go through with anything in this state, Hinata. _You’re_ better than this,” explains Suga, tone teetering on the edge of both harsh and caring. Shouyou breathes in through gritted teeth and exhales through his nose, his hand finding its way into his hair to muss it. He palms at his leaking eyes, rubbing away the salty tears while trying to steady his breathing. 

It’s then that Sugawara leaves his perch on Daichi’s desk to kneel before Shouyou and help to calm him down, his hands weaving underneath the smaller man’s armpits to heave him into a hug which is gladly accepted by the other. Shouyou sniffles into Suga’s shoulder for a few more moments before his heart stops trying to beat out of his rib cage and his foggy brain begins to clear to the point that his cognitive functions seem to be working more standard again. Suga rubs a soothing hand over his forearm and steps away to sit back down to let Daichi move on with procedure. 

“Hinata? Do you have anything you want to discuss before I give my word of advice?”

“Yes, Chief. Sorry for the outburst. You’re right, I’m… better than that,” Shouyou nods to Suga before continuing, not sounding too convinced, “I wanted to ask about working a different route for patrol until this blows over and having the new recruits take on my old position for the time being. With this new… _development_ , I think it smart to also up security in the agency and around officer lodgings around the city. I’m sure the YPD would have some qualms but it would be worth a shot to ask.” Daichi nods thoughtfully as he gave his two cents, sitting up to finally look Shouyou in the eye. 

“I think that’s all in order, Lieutenant. Though I doubt the YPD would spare officers for another’s safety when the Crows are involved.” He hums briefly. “That said I also think it would be smart of you to receive an identity change of some kind. Visit a barber or consider growing a beard.” Shouyou winces at the suggestion of a beard but agrees nonetheless.

“I can schedule a haircut for the next couple of days. Thank you, Chief.” Shouyou stands to take his leave, wanting to start his patrol and get it over with already, when Suga’s voice stops him. 

“Lieutenant. Run your current route for the remainder of today. Your next shift, you’ll be assigned the northeast sector that you ran when you were a sergeant.”

“Roger. Thank you, Chief, Deputy Chief.”

“Oh— and Hinata, please be careful. You’re valuable and we need you here for as long as possible. Got it?” Daichi reminds him, eyes pleading. Shouyou gives him his signature grin despite his churning stomach and salutes his superior, ducking out into the hall where he’s greeted by many worried officers. Yamaguchi and Kenma are discernible amidst the small crowd, but he flashes them the same grin and some thumbs-up, before swiftly making his way out to his car to complete his last east sector patrol. 

During Shouyou’s morning half of his shift, he manages to retrieve a purse for an elderly woman, and prevent a robbery at a convenience store he bought his lunch at. Already it had been more productive than a typical day, but Shouyou found it tiring that a handful of civilians had already called out to him as “the man on the news” or congratulated him on his good work for the city. This raised concern, and was ample reason enough for Shouyou to tuck his hair entirely beneath his hat to prevent immediate recognition. 

He spent the rest of his patrol in his SUV with limited time on foot, and remained happy to be bored for once in his psychotic life. Seeking out the criminals is the fun part for him, after all. If you work as a vigilante or for the syndicate it’s only natural you’d be some breed of crazy. 

When his car’s clock struck ten p.m., Shouyou made an executive decision to step away from his vehicle and park it in a lot overlooking the harbor. He made his way out onto the end of a dock and removed his hat from his head to let his hair breathe for a while. The breeze from the sea dusted Shouyou in bits of salt and a thin sheen of vapor that stuck to his skin which seemed to almost gleam in the backlit night. Taking a seat on the far end with his feet dangling over the edge of the wooden structure, he stared blankly up at the stars. It felt like forever since he’d last seen them, though he was certain he’d seen a couple of them last night on his balcony. His heart sank when thinking of the events that had occurred in such quick succession over the past day, and a long exhale escaped his throat. 

However, Shouyou’s heart all but stops when he hears a creak from behind him. He freezes in his motions for a split second, then carefully placing his hat back on his head nonchalantly, he reaches for his tanto blade next to his gun, a short dagger-like knife, and carefully pulls it from his pocket. If he was being jumped, he would be prepared, and it was no use applying a gun to close-quarters combat. 

Another creak sounds from behind him, closer this time, and Shouyou leaps to his feet and turns on his enemy in the span of mere seconds, brandishing his knife. 

“What do you want from me?” He asks, a rapid string of words that startle even Shouyou himself. The man before him is taller than he, with black hair styled with messy, uneven bangs, and in the dim moonlight Shouyou thinks he can see deep blue eyes and a crinkled facial expression. A smirk, more notably. 

“I don’t want anything from you, _Lieutenant Hinata Shouyou_ ,” he spat the name like venom. “But my boss? That’s _another_ story,” he promises. His voice is deep but it wavers when he speaks. Shouyou gauges his age to be around his own from his mannerisms. Despite clearly being disadvantaged by the bulkier, taller man, he widens his stance and curses himself for the poor choice in combat location. He definitely doesn’t have the upper hand. 

“Boss, eh?” Wonders Shouyou aloud as he primes himself to break into a sprint. “You one of those syndicate cronies?” He gambles, wondering how much longer he can stall with conversation among an assumed criminal. His assailant has the nerve to laugh. Shouyou narrows his eyes at the tongue piercing in between the man’s teeth, along with the signature earrings of syndicate members.

“I suppose you could say that,” he pauses, though, glancing somewhere behind Shouyou. “But it doesn’t matter, now does it?” He says the words almost as if he were trying to convince himself that were the case. _Is this guy insane? Or is he just stupid? He hardly seems cut out for the job, even if he’s got a couple of muscles._ Shouyou thinks, carefully weighing his options one last time, and reassessing when the man pulls out a knife of his own. 

“I beg to differ, Mr. Syndicate Bigshot. You’re nothing but the scum of the earth,” he spits, bolting to the man’s non-dominant side and back around to pull him into a headlock with one arm, his other clamping down on arms he’d pulled behind his back. “I am armed with a gun and _this_ knife. If you want to live long enough to see your trial I sincerely advise answering my questions.” At the mention of his weapon, Shouyou slices a line perpendicular to the man’s jaw that leaks crimson into his shirt. He feels the guy swallow thickly and struggle momentarily before wincing in pain when Shouyou’s grip tightens and more blood leaks from the cut by his throat, and for a moment the redhead is almost enjoying himself.

“So good to see we understand each other. Now, I want your name.” 

“Kageyama Tobio.” The reply is instant. _Didn’t that name ring a bell?_ Thinks Shouyou fleetingly. It was shocking enough that he’d hand over a name so quickly. 

“Who’s the boss? And what’s your standing?” 

“Fuck you,” he replies on that account, but Shouyou clenches his elbow and chokes him slightly until he can hardly breathe. 

“Ten seconds and you answer or I slit your throat,” Shouyou sings from between his teeth. The man— Kageyama— wriggles and strains against him, and as the seconds tick by Shouyou is granted no further answer. “Four… three… two… _HRK_ ,” Shouyou stumbles back towards land, his shin searing with pain from where he’d been kicked, and he steadies himself just in time to dodge beneath a well-aimed machete of sorts that would have severed an arm. Blatantly struck by surprise at Shouyou’s agility, the redhead seizes the opportunity to slam his boot into Kageyama’s stomach and attempt to recapture the Crow. Kageyama trips and regains his balance a good couple of yards away, spitting blood from his lips and wiping it from his chin where it had pooled, only to turn on his heels in the opposite direction when Shouyou made for him again. His eyes had been filled with what seemed to Shouyou like shock or fear, but he skids to a halt nonetheless as he watches in confusion as the man disappears into a labyrinth of seaside buildings. He takes a moment to regain his composure and hustles back to his SUV, forgoing the remainder of his patrol in favor of heading back to headquarters to give a report to Kenma, and hopefully grab a hold of Tsukishima before the end of his shift. He has some questions concerning this new face… _Kageyama Tobio._

“So you’re telling me he just… _ran away_?” Kenma inquires, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. Tsukishima leans back to kick his feet up onto Kenma’s desk, reangling the laptop he was consulting in his lap. Behind him, Kuroo Tetsuro, their primary crime scene investigator and who Kenma had been talking with before Tsukishima and Shouyou’s entry, crosses his arms. His goofily-styled black hair certainly isn’t helping the tense situation. 

“Yes, Kenma. He took off after I kicked him. I would have had him too, but _ugh_!” He slams a fist down onto the cherry wood of the desk, dragging a calloused hand through his tangerine hair in exasperation.

“Oh relax, Lieutenant. You managed to get his name and so…” Tsukishima flips his laptop around, revealing two syndicate profiles on either side of the screen, a cocky smile plastered to his face. The other three men stare with a squint at the laptop inquisitively, especially Shouyou, who recognizes immediately the face of his assailant in full color and high resolution. 

“Kageyama Miwa’s brother?!” He shouts, recalling easily that she used to be a syndicate head. 

“Seems so,” says Kuroo, clicking his tongue. “Wonder why this bastard decided to show his face all of a sudden anyway.”

“Beats me. Kenma, can you start on a report? I get the feeling that new officers might have some run-ins with him once I move patrol sectors.” Kenma chews his lip but nods, sticking half of a candy bar into his mouth before he starts typing away on his keyboard. Shouyou leans back on his chair until it’s near-tipping, sighing as he stares up at the ceiling lit by glaring fluorescent lights. 

“Are you good, Hinata?” It registers as Kuroo’s voice and the sound of Tsukishima flipping his laptop back around follows. Two pairs of eyes settle on him, seemingly worried. 

“I think so. Having an investigation like this helps to take my mind off of things but… he knew my name. That stupid bounty broadcast is going to be a pain.” Tsukishima groans, lifting his glasses onto the top of his head to rub his eyes.

“Well,” he starts, opening one eye as he rubs the other, “if it’s worth anything to you, Lieutenant, we won’t let the syndicate have their way. If you want a partner assigned for the time being I’m sure someone would be willing.” Shouyou whirls around, staring at Tsukishima incredulously.

“Did you… _did you just offer someone help_?” He squawks, gripping the arms of the chair in two tight fists. Tsukishima reels, cringing away from him with a thick coat of blush on his cheeks. 

“N-no! It’s not like I w-was suggesting _myself_ as your partner!” He exclaims to which Kenma snorts.

“Yeah, you’d rather be on a team with Yamag—“ 

“Shut up, Kenma!” Tsukishima roars. Kenma snickers, resuming his typing escapade. Shouyou hides his own laughter, but feels better about his situation regardless. 

“God, you’re all crazy,” he admits, punching Kuroo’s arm. He winces slightly.

“Bloodied hands and all, Lieutenant. We’ve got body counts, so…” the tall man says. Shouyou shrugs, and Tsukishima responds.

“Yeah. It’s all good, though. We still have jobs. We’ve been pardoned, and we won’t be sent to jail unless we become, I don’t know, _terrorists_.” The thought seems to make Kuroo shuffle on his feet. Shouyou takes it as a sign that maybe this isn’t a good conversation to be having right now. 

“Okay, well… I have an appointment for a haircut tomorrow morning, and I’m off patrol until Wednesday. Call me if you want to head out for a drink or something, ‘kay?” As Shouyou stands to take his leave, his coworkers wave.

“Seeya, Lieutenant.” Even just a smidgen more content then when he’d first entered, he waves back at his friends.

On his way home from the station Shouyou is on his toes, heart in his throat as he weaves his way through passerby, his hair drawn up neatly beneath his police cap. His movements are quick and abstract as he dodges past gossiping civilians, drowning out the mentions of his name and of the Clipped Crows. His anxiety only begins to fade when he stands alone in the elevator headed up to the fifth story of his apartment building, where he can be completely secluded away from every sideways glance sent his direction.

When he finally closes his door behind him and clicks over the deadbolt lock does he finally take a moment to breathe, swiping at his clothes for purchase as he yanks them off hastily, tossing the last of them into his washing machine. He subconsciously finds himself turning the knobs of his shower on, and under the scalding water Shouyou lets himself be at ease, shoulders flexing to allow beads of water to slide between the planes of his back. He’d be okay, he promises himself, pressing his face before the steady stream of water. He’ll have to be, for everyone’s sake. With his last ounce of reassurance, Shouyou washes himself from head to toe, rough hands tracing through the pink valleys of scars from surgeries, street fights, and gunshots, pressing a finger on his shin where purpling bruises were already starting to turn up. He leaves to dry himself off, wrapping a bath towel around his waist before lifting his phone from where he’d left it on his bed, scrolling through his contacts until he clicked on Natsu’s. He took a deep breath in and hit the video call button as he crawled into bed, leaning against the headboard. She answers him after a few moments.

“Shou!” She calls out, blatant excitement visible on her face.

“Hey, Natsu,” he replies, trying his best to keep a smile up. Looking at her is practically like looking in a mirror, though she was always the more responsible of the two. 

“Shou, you won’t believe it! I got a teaching job at Karasuno High School!” She bobbed up and down through the screen, jumping around the house. In the distance, Shouyou can hear his mother scolding her. 

“Congrats, Natsu! I’m so glad to hear that,” he responds in kind. 

“What about you? Has work been well? Mom was saying—“

“Yeah, work is… it’s fine. We’re launching an investigation. Once we’ve shut down the syndicate,” his eyes tore away from the phone screen, because he had to pretend like what he’s saying is true, “I’ll be up to visit you and Mom. Yokohama is going to be safe again!” He cheers, hiding his face partially. Natsu pouts.

“Shou, I want to believe you but… it’s hard. Your line of work is, well, dangerous. You should know by now we’re always going to worry, no matter how safe you claim to be.”

“Natsu… I… I’m sorry. There are going to be a lot of changes coming up. Everyone at the station knows it. Watch the news, alright? Keep an eye out.” His mother turns up behind Natsu, watching Shouyou as he speaks. 

“Shouyou, sweetie. You look horrible. Get some rest. You need it.” She murmurs lovingly.

“Alright. I love you both. Congratulations again, Natsu. I can’t wait to hear some stories once you start, okay?” She giggles.

“Alright. I love you too. Bye, Shou.” 

Once she hangs up, Shouyou tucks himself in, putting his phone on his charger for the night, trying his best to fall asleep. 

He wakes up the next morning at five am, restless, and throws up in the sink.


	3. Chapter 3

Shouyou turns up again at the station on Tuesday night by request of Kenma, and makes his way past Yachi into his office for what must be the millionth time in his life. Dressed in his civilian clothes and with hands in his pockets, he receives looks from the officers in training, clearly confused that such a thing was allowed. Before he opens the door he can hear several voices from inside, and through the frosted glass and behind the label _Kozume_ , he can make out figures dressed outside of their uniforms. When he opens up the door, he’s met with Atsumu, Kenma, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, Kuroo, and Sugawara, spread out casually throughout the office. 

“Uh, hi… everyone,” Shouyou mumbles, having not seen them in a couple of days. 

“Hi, Lieutenant!” Shouts Atsumu, clearly enthused. Shouyou cracks a small grin and waves. 

“Nice haircut,” says Suga, ruffling the fluffy top of his new undercut. Shouyou bats his hands away with a laugh.

“Thanks, Deputy Chief. It’s good to see you, too… what’s with everyone here in civilian clothes?”

“Kenma!” Yells Sugawara, turning around as quickly as he could to face the accused. “You didn’t tell him?” 

“I thought it would be better as a surprise. All I asked was if he’d come to the station.”

“ _Well_ ,” pipes up Yamaguchi before there was grounds for a potential argument, “we’re going out to eat, our treat. You’ve been working so hard lately and it’s obvious you need a break.”

“Aw, guys really? That’s so nice…” Considering how few times he’s left the house since he’d become part of a bounty list, this would no doubt ease some of his worry to be out with people he could consider friends. However, his chest clenched to think that his only acquaintances were his coworkers, and that someone equally as crazy as himself would have to come along by chance in order to become his lifelong company. That’s thinking for another time though, he reassures himself, turning back to his friends. 

“When do we leave?” He asks, looking to Kenma.

“Now is fine, I’ll just have to lock up behind everyone else. Go on ahead, I’ll meet up with you.” The remaining officers file out of their headquarters into Yokohama’s busy streets and walk in a tight group down a couple of streets. On the way, they have menial discussions, about life, family, work, et cetera, of which Shouyou takes no part in, rather he listens intently, hanging on to every word from their mouths with envy. Kenma jogs up behind them a little while later, throwing up the hood of his hoodie and pulling out his phone, catching Shouyou’s eye and giving him a peace sign. The redhead slows his pace to walk with Kenma, who slides his phone back into his pocket to gaze towards Shouyou.

“What do you think you’ll have for dinner?” He asks, loud enough to be heard over the noise of their bustling friends. Shouyou taps his chin,

“Probably udon, I haven’t eaten a big dinner in a while, and haven’t been to the training grounds recently, either. It’d do me some good to put on weight.” Kenma hums thoughtfully. His knowledge of what happens out on the field is limited, and he himself had committed strictly technological crimes that landed him a job in their agency. Shouyou, however, is wiser to the nature of his work. Their “training grounds” weren’t more than a gym in the agency’s basement and sparring in the wrestling ring they’d shoved into the corner. Regardless, Kenma caught Shouyou’s drift.

“Maybe you should go back to training if you think your form is falling…” Kenma suggests. Shouyou shrugs, glancing up and waving across the street where a huddle of girls stand with bright eyes at the group of men walking down the sidewalk. When he looks back to Kenma his expression is unreadable.

“Yeah… maybe,” he agrees, but just as soon as his expression vanished was his smile back on his face, radiating a warmth that Shouyou and Shouyou alone possessed. It doesn’t matter, though; Kenma’s already skeptical. “Hey, looks like we’re almost here. Come on, Kenma!” He calls as he stumbles up with the rest of the group while they turn into a quaint but well-decorated restaurant with a pleasant ambiance. The place was one-room, with a wide dining room and neatly set tables complete with silverware (for tourists) and linen napkins. Vases filled with red carnation bouquets sit as centerpieces, giving off a feeling like fire blooming from a hearth. 

The group settles into a large booth towards the back, acting as natural as possible when faced with confused or intrigued faces made by other patrons, Shouyou, Kenma, and Suga on one side, the other four squeezed in on the other. A pretty waitress takes their orders once they’ve settled in, and the group once again dissolves into senseless discussion. Shouyou chimes in every so often, when he feels he can contribute somewhat to the topic at hand, but in reality his mind is anywhere but in the present. He keeps himself busy by analyzing the other customers strewn about the dining room, and peeking out the window as people walk past, seemingly busy despite the time of night. 

“Hinata, what do you think?” The question falls on deaf ears.

“Huh?” He couldn’t even tell who’d asked him the question, or to what it even referred. “Sorry, I spaced out. Repeat that for me?” Tsukishima sighs. 

“Do you think we should take a vacation up north when things die down? Take a train or something, you and the rest of us,” he repeats. Shouyou shrugs.

“I guess… maybe. I have to visit my family if we do, though,” he points out. Atsumu nods.

“But that’s not a no, right?” He utters, quiet. 

“Not a no,” he confirms, fiddling with a polyester napkin. Yamaguchi plants a fist on the table.

“Hear me out, what if we went somewhere out of the country? Like… ooh, _Hawaii_ ,” he muses, eyes sparkling. Shouyou makes a little smile at him. 

“How could we afford that?” Suga argues, his features tightening and hands gripping the table.

“Oh come on, Suga-mama, live a bit! We could probably steal—“ several of Kuroo’s friends turn their heads and cock an eyebrow, “okay— _borrow_ some money from… _somewhere_.” Suga glares.

“Yeah, okay. And where do you propose we get that money? Tax evasion?” Tsukishima bristles, lowering his gaze, though Shouyou could spy a hint of a smirk. Kuroo clutches at his heart and feigns injury.

“ _Tsuki-_ shi _ma_! Low blow,” he crows, but all of them laugh including Shouyou, though his laughter is more of a soft exhale than anything else. 

“Alright, alright. Maybe we should stop bullying Kuroo for his… less than noble past for a little bit. You’ve all done worse and you know it,” Shouyou blurts out. Kenma snickers, watching gleefully as their coworkers turn varying shades of red. Shouyou can’t help but feel a little proud that he was able to elicit such a response amidst the conversation, and turned himself inwards towards his friends. 

Two food servers showed up moments later to drop off their dinners, and following a thank-you for the meals the group digs in. The conversation develops as they eat, ranging from at-home family life to recent jobs they’d taken, and how this, that, and the other criminal was jailed after this, that, and the other car chase and… yeah, Shouyou listened as best he could, though he was more intent on his bowl of udon than his friends. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Starts Atsumu, “Asahi gets back from his leave this week. He’s taken over Hinata’s old patrol.” He was, of course, referring to a fellow captain, Asahi Azumane, a tall, stubbly man with long brown hair that he often held in a bun. He had taken a temporary leave after sustaining injury on a job. It was nothing but a broken arm, but enough to have him out of commission for several weeks. 

Shouyou’s ears pique into the conversation now, pausing in his advances on his dinner.

“Really? That’s good news. I hadn’t asked him about when he’d be back on duty,” babbles Yamaguchi. Atsumu nods.

“Yep! I’m excited to see the big guy. He does good work.” Noises of affirmation follow, but Suga scrunches his nose.

“Wait, I thought that Hinata had requested we send the newbies on his old route?” Shouyou’s eyes zip onto Suga, then follow his gaze to Atsumu. 

“I spoke to Chief earlier; he agreed that it’d be a good idea to have Asahi take it for now. The newbies barely know how to shoot, and we got, what, six of ‘em?”

“Did Daichi brief him? Asahi, I mean,” Shouyou speaks up, only then taking another bite of his food. Atsumu fixes his eyes on the ceiling as he tries to remember.

“Mm, I think so. Last I heard, Daichi said Asahi ‘knew he could handle it’ and that he wanted to ‘re-establish himself.’ Beats me, really.” 

“Will he be okay?” This time, Shouyou was looking at Suga, worry evident in his tone.

“Of course, Hinata. He’s just as capable as any one of us. And you know he’s got brute strength to spare,” Suga murmurs assuredly. Shouyou slumps in his seat, nodding as he shoveled more food hurriedly into his mouth. Kenma watched on silently as he chews, almost as if he were a jaguar stalking a helpless raven, keeping himself in Shouyou’s line of sight to observe from the side. He couldn’t help but wonder if this dinner for Shouyou was entirely a good idea in the first place…

Again, the conversation devolves back into nonsensical chatter, and again Shouyou tunes it out almost completely, keeping himself busy by looking at passerby. Soon enough their dinner is over with and their stomachs full, paid for by the senior officers, and the group leaves the restaurant to head back to the station. 

The way back is about as eventful as the way there, echoes of playful conversation reverberating between the buildings on either side of the street. More giggling women pass them on the sidewalk, some making grabs at Kuroo and Tsukishima, who snarl as if deeply offended and continue their long strides forward. The cars that whiz by on the asphalt to their side tousle Shouyou’s fluffy hair, and the stench of gasoline leaves behind an acrid smell that has him stumbling farther from the busy road; the fumes from the exhaust make him lightheaded, so he leans casually into Yamaguchi. 

“Lieu— Hinata, are you okay?” He asks, planting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him gently. Shouyou places his own hand over Yamaguchi’s, steadying himself as best he could while everyone else froze in place to turn and look at him. Fleetingly, Sugawara wonders when he became so frail. 

“Y-Yeah. I’m okay,” he says after a while, though his shoulder remains stuck to Yamaguchi’s once they resume their walk, a little slower and more cautious. Kenma quickly takes to Shouyou’s other side, supporting him with his meager body weight, but it’s the thought that counts. 

“Hinata, I think you should take it easy. Maybe you’re coming down with a fever…” The catlike man suggests, reaching to test his temperature. His hand came away chilled by the cool night air. “Would it be alright if I walked you back to your apartment?” After brief deliberation Shouyou nods.

“Thank you, Kenma. That’s very kind of you. I should be fine though, really.” To emphasize his point he shies away from the two officers to stand on his own, walking again as if nothing had even happened. Yamaguchi and Kenma look at one another, cocking their eyebrows. A crease forms on the bridge of Kenma’s nose as he fixes again on Shouyou. The redhead’s resolve is unwavering. He seems more like himself than he had all night standing there with a half-assed grin and daft confidence. Kenma sighs.

“Fine, but I’m still walking you up.”

“Sure,” replies Shouyou, jogging up to speak to Suga about something— anything— to prevent Kenma from furthering their conversation. Suga graciously invites Shouyou into the senior officers’ discussion about the best kind of security camera. 

Another four minutes pass and Shouyou and Kenma break off from the group with goodbyes. While Shouyou fiddles with his keycard to enter his apartment building, Kenma follows the dimming silhouettes of their coworkers as they travel from beneath one streetlight after the next before coming upon the lot where their cars were kept just half a block down, promptly revving engines and taking off. By the time Shouyou had ushered them inside, Kenma had watched both Atsumu and Tsukishima drive off. 

The elevator ride up is tolerable, though Kenma senses something stirring in Shouyou. 

“Are you going to start a training regimen again? It seems like you’d gain a lot from it.” Shouyou merely shrugs.

“Probably,” he responds, glaring at the floor indicator displayed above the elevator’s buttons. It was nearing Shouyou’s floor at a rapid pace. A mere moment passes and suddenly the doors slide open with a quiet chime. “Well,” he jingles his keys in his hand. “Thanks for organizing this, and for keeping me company. See you again soon, Kenma!” He calls, speeding down the hall to his apartment. Kenma calls after him,

“Yep! Stay safe!” 

It isn’t noticeable when Shouyou flinches at the wording Kenma gave, nor is it obvious when his hands shake in attempt to fit the key into his lock, or when his breaths come quicker with the coming seconds, even after he’s gone inside. He kicks off his shoes the moment he can, sliding down the back of his door into a sitting position, sprawled in such a way that any further he would be doing a funky split. His veins pump blood in an erratic pattern, pounding in his ears at the same speed as his breathing, his hands clutching at his face. Seconds, minutes, maybe hours pass before he finally gains enough control over himself to stand and shed his clothes, brush his teeth, and crawl, tear stained and wet-faced into bed. 

A week passes without much incident. Shouyou solo-raids an illegal casino on his new patrol route, effectively shutting down the illegal aspects (rigged slots and cheating dealers) and jailing the cons behind the place. “It was permitted to stay in business, only because all the other workers were innocent,” Shouyou relays to Asahi, who had no sooner returned to the agency than he was back into their basement training his atrophied arm back to health in his time between patrols.

“I see. So then who was the head honcho?” He asks, lifting a couple hundred pounds up in a bench press. Shouyou stood behind him, spotting. 

“Mm, I’m not sure actually. She was supposedly the wife of a man whose casino Yamaguchi raided two weeks ago, or something like that,” he mumbles, helping Asahi to put the bar back so he could sit up and wipe the sweat from his brow. He heaved a breath and turned to Shouyou with a grin. 

“Good job, man. You and Yama have had a lot of action lately, eh?” He laughs a bit.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Following his reply, Shouyou pulls at the gauze and bandages wrapped around his arm, and another wrapped around the left side of his abdomen which had bled through many times because of the bullet that had clipped him on the raid itself. 

“Hey, Lieutenant, it’s nothing to be shy about. In fact, I’m a little jealous that you’ve been so productive lately. A syndicate head? I could hardly believe it when Chief told me about it!” He punches Shouyou’s healthy arm good-naturedly, getting to his feet. Shouyou had to step back and look up to meet the 6’ 1” man’s eyes, a struggle he’s known too well throughout his life and even as he grew to be 5’ 7”. 

“Sure. I’m not… _shy_ , it’s just a lot to have a bounty on my head. I’m afraid of being in public for too long. I asked Tsukishima the other day where else the bounty was posted after it aired on live TV, and he said it was on almost every major crime site in Yokohama.” Shouyou turns dejectedly away from Asahi, reaching to grab his water bottle and take a swig. 

“Oh… I guess I never really considered that. Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, okay?” With a nod, Shouyou shoves on a pair of boxing gloves and headgear.

“Up for a match?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead preemptively tossing his coworker his own set of gear before he crawls into the ring. Asahi follows him and they touch gloves before ducking back into defensive positions, knees low to the ground. Both Shouyou and Asahi know the latter has an advantage with his height and reach, but when it comes to speed and agility, Asahi’s forced to hold his tongue. Asahi throws the first few punches, a couple of feigns and one that lands on the front of Shouyou’s headgear. He staggers back, reopening his eyes in time to see a left hook that he ducks beneath and sidesteps, landing a hard hit to Asahi’s side as he does. His eyes never leave Asahi as he relishes in the pride of his dodge, and only leave to blink as the impact of a solid punch to the small of Asahi’s back that knocks the wind from the taller man’s lungs. Asahi regains his composure several feet away, reaching out to tap gloves again, this time with a more serious expression on his stubbly face. 

“That all you got?” Asahi jibes, grinning.

“You wish, rusty old man.” Deep down Shouyou felt bad for the snide comment, especially when Asahi was only about two years older than himself, but his remorse only lasted until the next hit that Asahi brought barreling into Shouyou’s bad side. He choked a little, sputtering a tad on his own spit, then jabbed a few good ones through Asahi’s defense. A wetness where Shouyou was hit began to alert him that he was, in fact, bleeding, and so a couple moments later the two retire their gear and sit down on a bench against the concrete walls. 

“Sorry again,” Asahi apologizes, for likely the fourteenth time. Shouyou rolls his eyes.

“Captain, I knew what I was getting into when I offered to spar. It’s okay,” he assures him.

“Ah, well if it’s any consolation I think you’ve improved. And here I was thinking I stood a chance while you were injured and out of practice,” he tutted. Shouyou lets out a small laugh, and it stings when his lungs contract due to the proximity of his injury. He pulls a sharp inhale through his teeth, lying down on the bench to carefully remove the soiled bandages. 

“Ah! Let me help,” Asahi goes straight to doing just that, reaching into a first aid kit to replace the brown and crimson cloth. Shouyou shuts his eyes and lets Asahi do as he must, keeping his mind busy. The hydrogen peroxide stings, and the room smells strongly of disinfectant. 

“You know…” began Asahi as he cut apart a too-big scrap of gauze, “I’ve seen a man twice on your old patrol. About Yamaguchi’s height, with black hair. Any idea why he hangs around?” Shouyou blanches, eyes widening in what could only be described as horrified panic. 

“ _You didn’t think to tell Chief?!_ ” He screeched, resisting the urge to sit up and strangle poor Asahi. 

“Huh? No, sorry. Is something wrong?” Asahi shied away ever-so-slightly. The shorter man sighs, exasperated, drawing a hand over his face until it rested over his chest.

“That’s Kageyama Miwa’s brother, Tobio. He’s a syndicate member and he’s after me. He and the boss, apparently.” Asahi offers a shocked expression. 

“Are you serious? I was told your old route was forgone because you weren’t comfortable with it… _that’s_ why?” Shouyou nods, resting his hand instead on Asahi’s knee as if a sign of twisted comfort. Asahi delicately places the bandages and adheres them, resulting in his knee getting gripped like a vice, but as Shouyou sits up their eyes lock for a brief moment. Instead of responding directly, Shouyou groans.

“Be careful around that Kageyama. He’s dangerous enough.” Asahi nods, big brown eyes trailing after Shouyou as he gathers his things and approaches the staircase. “It was good to see you, man. Thanks for the patch up. Sparring again tomorrow?” Asahi bites his lip. 

“Yeah. See you,” with a wave, Shouyou disappears up the steep stairwell and changes into his proper policing uniform in the upstairs bathroom, heading out for another eventful night.


	4. Chapter 4

Shouyou’s police car’s radio had gone out halfway through his nightly patrol, and so he sat in relative silence overlooking one of the most unused streets of Yokohama, disgusted, bored, and most of all anxious. He lounged with ease over the steering wheel, head laid in his crossed arms, chestnut eyes just barely peeking out through a gap between his hat and forearms out onto the street. Glass from long since broken streetlamps gathered in potholes the city “couldn’t fix,” the only light fixture a neon sign that read amidst the darkness _Lucky’s_ , though the _k_ was burned out and so instead it said, _Lucy’s_. The sidewalk cement was cracked, with syringes kicked into the gaps in the pavements and encrusted with browned blood; tire marks from a passing car chase indicated that a drug deal had gone wrong, as did the smashed shards of an intricately-made bong. 

Shouyou puffed out a breath of air. This place was once a refuge, an oasis even, for those who desired simpler lives. When he ran this same route as a misfit in training, _Lucky’s_ was still a business to behold with women constantly coming and going, dressed to the nines in all sorts of _Playboy_ clothes and with their six inch stilettos clacking harmoniously against the pearly white and perfectly scratchless concrete. Once, Shouyou had made good enough friends with the bouncer to be allowed inside while on duty, and to this day Shouyou can’t muster up an ounce of regret even in the face of his furious chief at the time, Ukai. 

But now, as he watched a homeless man across the one-way street stick a needle into a vein of his arm and fall limp seconds later, he felt sick to his stomach and nearly regretted his decision to take this route instead of his old one. What would Ukai say now, if he were still around, if Shouyou were to stop by _Lucky’s_ for a drink on duty? Shouyou tired to ignore the fleeting thought, but it was too late as his mind invested further into his little fantasy. Chief Ukai likely would have scolded him, less than when he was still training mind you, but he probably would have been forced to clean the station’s bathroom or some other degrading punishment. Shouyou snorts. _A shame he died to Kageyama Miwa_. As soon as the thought registered, Shouyou stopped his stream of effortless mind wandering. _Kageyama_. He repeats in his head, a deliberate effort this time. 

“That bastard,” he says out loud, resisting the urge to pound his car horn into his steering wheel. He lifts his head and takes a steely hold on the wheel, burning rubber as he slams on his gas to peel out of the run-down road into more center-city of his sector, parking his car on a corner where he grows distracted by an advertisement for “a healthier mind.”

A couple of days after the incident outside of _Lucky’s_ , the last place Shouyou expected to be was in Chief’s office prior to leaving for his shift. His superior fixed his eyes on Shouyou from behind his desk, clasping his hands together in front of his face. 

“Hinata, we want a progress report by the end of the week. Captain Asahi has submitted several… _intriguing_ reports thus far. It would be ideal to receive your portion of data to see if yours and his overlap. I’ve already notified Kenma.” Shouyou nods dutifully, wiggling slightly in his chair. .

“Thank you, Chief. And will do, Chief.” 

“Good work, Lieutenant. Thanks for the cooperation.” Daichi waves him off, turning again to his PC, as he was before Shouyou had arrived. 

“Sir,” he says, taking his leave and jumping into his car to roll out onto his patrol. As he leaves the parking lot, the dull roar of a motorcycle makes his car tremble. Stopped at a red light, Shouyou steals a glance at the driver of the bike through his rearview mirror, scrunching his face in distaste of a black-leather-covered biker, helmet a deceiving matte black that fully obscured the man’s (his body structure was masculine) facial features. Shouyou debates if he could give a ticket for disturbing the peace, but a green light dissuades the idea, and he speeds around a couple more corners to his sector, careful to inspect his rear view for the biker who keeps on his tail. Perhaps he’s looking for a cheap good time at _Lucky’s_ , Shouyou jokes to himself, cranking the volume of his newly-repaired radio to near-max as he settles into an abandoned lot. 

Before leaving his vehicle, Shouyou squints through his tinted windows, analyzing his location until he sees a biker’s helmet peeking out through a thin gap between buildings. He reaches to lock his doors, picking up his radio with another hand before he goes to shut his car off and exit. He cranks the volume back down.

“This is Lieutenant Hinata, suspicious activity in sector twelve. Requesting backup,” he murmurs into it.

“Roger, Hinata, dispatching now,” Suga says in reply, his voice garbled by the poor radio connection echoing through Shouyou’s new patrol earpiece. 

“Who should I be expecting?” 

“Chief, Deputy Chief, and Captain Asahi,” he responds just as quick.

“Roger,” Shouyou doesn’t even bother questioning why so many high-standing officers would come to his aid, but is thankful nonetheless. His hand reaches for his chest pocket for his pack of cigarettes, pulling out the last two. He sets the latch to unlock his vehicle, clambering out into the night to lean against his driver’s side door, cigarettes still between his fingers. He lights one and sticks it between his lips. It had been several days since he last took a smoke, and it felt rewarding to have the tobacco flood his system. 

The biker emerges from the crevice he had hidden in with his bike pulled along at his side, gingerly approaching Shouyou where he stands. Shouyou eyes him from his peripherals, stance widened if the need to run arose, but the man stops a couple of feet in front of him, arms crossed and face invisible from behind the guard of his helmet. 

“Officer,” says the man in a respectful tone, though his voice was heavily muffled. Shouyou tilts his hat forward gently, clicking the clasp on his pistol’s holster up as a precaution. 

“Good evening,” replies Shouyou coolly, like his voice was drifting along on a fog bank. The man gives a curt nod under his helmet and rests the bike a good eight feet from the vigilante, promptly taking a sideways seat. He shakes the helmet from his head and ruffles his hair, placing the helmet into the back bin of his cycle. 

Shouyou’s hair prickles from his ankles to his neck, and denial ran heavy through his veins as he denied the sight before him. The redhead’s opinion of the biker, as annoyed as Shouyou was before, took a 180 once— twice, as cogs clicked through his head. Firstly, this man was undeniably hot; clad in black leather that wrapped tightly to his well-kept build and in militaristic platform boots. He was armed, which wasn’t surprising given their setting… that said, however, the most startling fact that made him take a double take was—

“Good night for a ride, eh?” Says Kageyama fucking Tobio, clear as if the sun was shining. A once-over lets Shouyou realize the man isn’t as horrible as he first thought, though. Shouyou’s stomach does a flip-flop and he reaches with his open hand for the taser in his chest pocket. Kageyama puts up his hands, crossing his legs in a way that had Shouyou’s stomach roiling in a different sort of manner. _Dammit, Shouyou your life could be in danger right now! You don’t have time to think about how hot a man that’s trying to kill you is!_ “Whoa, Officer. I mean no harm,” he promises, even having the nerve to chuckle gently. And God, his laugh is endearing. Shouyou brings his hand into his lap, and with the other removes the cigarette from his mouth to blow smoke into the night air. The other cigarette between his pinkie and ring finger tilts as he places his own back between his lips. Kageyama’s eyes flick from Shouyou’s face to the unlit cigarette and makes a look with his midnight eyes. 

“Sorry, have we met before?” Comes the sudden question. Shouyou puts all his luck in one basket, praying that he doesn’t get recognized before reinforcements arrive. It should be any minute, really. 

“No, I don’t believe we have. Do you have business with an officer?” He tries his luck, extending out his hand to offer the other a cigarette, cautious nonetheless. Kageyama takes it and lights it— the way his Adam’s Apple bobs has Shouyou near-drooling. (He should really get his mind out of the gutter.)

“Business with an officer? No, I’m afraid I don’t,” he says, and to the untrained eye it was a believable act of fraud. Shouyou curbs the urge to blurt, ‘ _Well, in that case, how about we change that?_ ’ Instead what comes out is:

“So then what brings you by this old place then?” Kageyama shrugs, leaning back to exhale smoke into a gust of wind that makes it seem like it simply dissolved. 

“In essence, I was told that a friend moved into this area of town. I stopped by to see if he’d show on his way home from work, you see.” The act Kageyama keeps putting on is phenomenal, Shouyou notes, bitterly decoding his message in his head to mean that Shouyou’s route switch had been sniffed out. 

“Ah. I hope you find them,” he responds in kind, the earpiece in his ear sending in a static signal interlaced with Suga’s voice telling him his reinforcements are to arrive in approximately two more minutes. _Two more minutes of stalling, Shouyou. You can do this._

“Thanks… hey actually, do you mind if I pick your brain?” Kageyama asks, tone unusually even, almost rehearsed. 

“Shoot,” confirms Shouyou, pulling his taser from his pocket in poor taste to reinforce his statement. “Just be careful what you ask, stranger. I’m not your average policeman.” He chuckles to himself. Kageyama does too, though an edge to his laughter now presents itself.

“Understood. So… how do your coworkers spend their free time? I’m trying to extend my hobbies beyond… _volleyball_.” Shouyou scrunches his nose. It won’t hurt to give an honest answer, plus it’ll give him more time to occupy the attention of the criminal before him. 

“We don’t have much free time. I spend my own sleeping, usually. Couldn’t tell you for my fellow officers. Ask ‘em yourself, at the station if you’re that hung up on it,” Shouyou explains, eyes catching a glimpse of headlights rounding a corner behind him. For a split second Kageyama’s face is fully illuminated, and Shouyou is given a clear look at the vertical slit along Kageyama’s chin from where his knife had run smooth along the pale flesh. The wound was healing cleanly into a shiny pink line of scar tissue, though the center was still visibly scabbed. Surprisingly, it accented his face well. When Kageyama smiles at Shouyou’s blunt redirect of the conversation, the silver stud stuck on Kageyama’s tongue barely pokes through. The wind picks up slightly, spilling a few orange locks of hair out onto Shouyou’s forehead.

The car continues up the small back road, and instinctively both Kageyama and Shouyou reach for their primary weapons and slouch into flight-ready positions, each ignoring the other as if it were instinct alone guiding the two. The car stops and Shouyou recognizes his friends as they step out with their weapons primed. 

“Freeze!” Says Suga, pistol pointing right at the space between Kageyama’s eyes. He holds his own weapon aloft, trigger finger twitching with anticipation. Asahi and Daichi tumble out after him, car parked but left on, also holding guns out before them and bathed in backlight. The metallic glint of the guns reflects onto the brick walls of the one-way street, and while he still has the element of surprise Shouyou reaches for his gun and pinpoints it at Kageyama. Kageyama’s eyes fill with a life’s worth of betrayal, an element of hurt trimming his irises, as he turns reeling on Shouyou. 

“What gives?!” He shouts, trailing his handgun on his three attackers as his cigarette sinks to the asphalt ground. Shouyou grits his teeth.

“In the name of the law, you are under arrest for relation to a confirmed crime syndicate. Kageyama Tobio, we ask that you come quietly,” Demands Shouyou, reluctant almost but authoritative. Kageyama blinks several times before his jaw seems to set, lips peeling back to reveal clenched teeth turned vibrant white in the light of the headlights. 

“Fucking— _Shouyou_!” He roars, glaring at Shouyou accusingly, now undeniably enraged and betrayed. It almost hurts the redhead to watch. “You— you… _ass_!” He kicks his bike with force then, loosening a canteen that falls from the undercarriage spewing smoke, effectively concealing Kageyama as his shadow mounts the motorcycle and revs the engine, tearing out of the lot, the stench of burning rubber in his wake. Shouyou growls, firing shots after Kageyama that almost clip his back, but instead he turns a corner and out of the vigilante’s sight. Asahi, Suga, and Daichi run up to him with abandon for the car they’d ridden up in, and Asahi places a hand on Shouyou’s shoulder.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” he confesses with faint apathy. Shouyou rolls his eyes, shoving Asahi’s hand off of himself.

“For once, Asahi, please shut up.”

Shouyou’s resolve hardens as he stops by a convenience store on his way home to buy a pack of cigarettes— _Marlboro’s_. He buys them wordlessly from the grubby cashier, shoving them deep into his pockets as he plods his way back to his apartment with his work bag slung across his chest. His brain runs in overdrive, traveling from one point to another seamlessly as he jumped from one conclusion to the next. One thing’s for certain though: at the center of his inner turmoil lies an image of Kageyama Tobio and the tired expression he had worn only hours before. Shouyou had given his report to Kenma, checked in with Kuroo and Tsukishima, and retrieved his monthly pay from Kiyoko, but he couldn’t hide his thinking face beyond his brief interactions with them. 

The pack of cigarettes is a comforting weight in his pocket, and he considers lighting one on his balcony and staying up since he was off the next day, but instead decides that he’ll indulge in a can of beer. The elevator ride to his apartment and though his front door are fueled by his drive for alcohol, so as he settles into his deck chair with a beer in his hand and his best pondering face, he grows content.

“Kageyama Tobio, huh?” He murmurs to the wind, taking a sip of his drink. The hollow echo of the metal can being tapped with hasty fingers ricochets off of his sliding glass doors and into the cloudy night and slowing traffic below him. 

Shouyou heaves a noisy sigh, slumping into the cushion of his chair. Images appear before his closed eyes, of Kageyama with a cigarette in his mouth, of Kageyama laughing (accompanied by the welcomed sound), of Kageyama’s jaw scar that Shouyou had put there, but most of all the look of hurt he had displayed when he found out his cover was blown and that Shouyou was his hit. It was almost a sort of guilt that settled over Shouyou’s consciousness like a black cat sleeping on his chest. The accompanying twinge of morality swept through his system, reminding him that he purposefully deceived the man when he could have just instigated a fight and detained him… surely his senior officers would have arrived before/if things went south. What had stopped him from acting on that impulse?

Back at square one, Shouyou reasons, taking another swig. _Kageyama Tobio…_ his mind echoes. If he weren’t a syndicate douchebag Shouyou could admit that he had a strong personality and stunning looks to match but… that has nothing to do with his line of work. Someone’s sex appeal has never influenced his work before, and he’s been in the business for over a decade. Why now must he go head to head with his own urges? Shouyou opens his eyes wide at the expanse of cloudy night sky and takes yet another drink, an overwhelming tiredness washing over him while he admires the asymmetric cityscape. Thoughts for another evening, he reckons. 

More thinking ensues later that night, while Shouyou struggles to fall asleep, and with his brain muddled by sleep and alcohol, he barely manages to make even one conclusion: he should pursue Kageyama. Even if his life is at stake.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan. (Again.)

Shouyou roams his new route with newfound anxiety on his next shift, keeping his head down as he walked to and fro through a smaller shopping district. The busy 2-star restaurants are filled with degenerates and incels, and Shouyou is reminded that he once indulged in dinners at these very shops. Beggars and drunkards wander up to him asking for spare change, but Shouyou shakes his head and walks right past them, worried for the yen bills in his chest pocket behind his cigarettes. His car, parked a couple of blocks away, was left locked and with the alarms set because of how uneasy being out like this made the redhead. 

Shouyou tries his best to blend into the crowd to expedite his search for Kageyama, but his small height and bright blue uniform give him little choice when huddles of people separate to give him space to walk. He wonders why he didn’t take Atsumu’s advice to make this an undercover operation, but dismisses the thought in order to remain focused. His eyes flit from person to person on the congested side street, glancing every so often at shopping stalls and hooded artisans, the overwhelming scent of poorly-made ramen and dry rotted wood pervading his nose with every step farther into the darkening street. Civilians continue to give him wake and shop owners call to him in enticing tones that offer this, that, and the other deal if he were to stop and purchase a meal. The men who call to him have missing teeth and facial scarring, and it does little to ease Shouyou’s worry. 

However, another twenty minutes into his shift pass, and he’s nearing a more reliable destination at the far end of the street where he had genuine history. 

He pushes aside the fabric of a doorway into a quaint shop that housed only four tables and five barstools, with traditional lanterns and a single electric lamp. The red and gold tapestries on the walls glimmer in the lowlight, displaying images of dragons, crows, and ancient historical figures. A smaller man with curly black hair and wire-rim glasses pokes his head up from behind the bar, a smile spreading from ear to ear as he emerges to greet Shouyou with a glass of water in hand.

“Been a while, Takeda. How have you been?” Shouyou asks, a grin of his own adorning his features as he takes a seat at a table.

“Oh, Hinata, I’m so glad you came to visit. I was worried you’d finally gotten into a scuffle you couldn’t take,” he pauses to set the glass on the table, “I’m well, thanks for asking,” he adds. 

“You thought I couldn’t handle it? Takeda, I’m offended!” Shouyou laughs, greedily retrieving his water for a sip. Takeda takes a seat across from him, adoration evident in his motions.

“You know what I meant! I can’t help but worry, you know. What with your younger years and all that…” Takeda of course referred to Shouyou’s late teenage years and early twenties when he was but a mere boy working for this very shop and running his own little business to the side. The contents of such business were confidential, and as such available in the headquarter’s database exclusively. His _business_ was no more than a service of revenge, and bloodied knives were commonplace in such a job. Takeda knew the risks when he took Shouyou in, but he never stopped worrying.

“I know,” Shouyou murmurs with guilt, “Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, things have kicked up a lot. I’m sure you saw the news a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I did. I know that you’ll find a way around it. You always do,” he replies, standing as a cook comes out of the back kitchen with a bowl of ramen. Takeda takes it to Shouyou. “I was going to have this for my dinner but it can wait. Please, help yourself. You need a break from your shift anyway, right?” Takeda gestures to his uniform. Shouyou gives a quiet thanks and shyly goes about his meal, setting his hat on the tabletop out of respect. Between bites, he figures he might ask Takeda for information. 

“So… I’m looking for someone, my hitman actually, mind if I ask if you’ve seen someone with his appearance?” Takeda nods.

“By all means, ask away,” he responds, pressing a hand to his cheek and an elbow to the table as he leans cockeyed to stare at Shouyou as he spoke. 

“His name is Kageyama Tobio, he’s about six feet tall, with black hair… uh, he’s fairly muscular I guess, and he’s got a syndicate earring and tongue piercing. Oh! And blue eyes. Seen ‘im?” Takeda blinks.

“Hmm, maybe? We get syndicate members around this district sometimes, what with the low income families and druggies… I can’t say that I’ve seen someone with that exact description but… it’s worth a shot to check around. Saturdays are good days if you want to catch syndicate pricks,” Shouyou hums to himself. It was Friday night, and if he checked back tomorrow he might be in luck. He slurps up the last of his devoured dinner, standing to bow to Takeda as he puts his hat back on. 

“Thanks for the info, Take. And for dinner. Call headquarters if you want to catch up some more,” he says. Takeda smiles warmly.

“Of course, Hinata. I’ll keep an eye out for you. Have a safe night and hurry back.” Shouyou nods, pushing back through the doorway he’d come into the night, glaring at violently bright advertisements. With a full stomach and an insider for information, Shouyou’s confidence skyrocketed on his way back to his vehicle to close his patrol for the time being. 

The next evening, Shouyou stops by the station carrying a Manila folder under one arm. He was fitted in undercover attire that concealed his weapons and communication devices. Yachi greets him at the front desk.

“Good evening, Lieutenant. Looking good,” she gushed, eyes roaming over his outfit. To him, it was nothing fancy, just a white t-shirt and beige overcoat with a pair of acid washed jeans and matching boots. Adorning his soft face, though littered with gentle scarring, was a pair of glasses with rims as clear as the lenses that accentuated the freckling on his cheeks and brought his coffee-colored eyes a golden hue. The unruly nest of hair on top of his head was wet from a fresh shower, scattered messily across his small forehead and nearly into his eyes. He hardly looked, now, in that moment, like a man plagued by hours of unease, and to Yachi this seemed at first glance like any other night before a patrol.

“Thank you, Miss Yachi. That’s too kind of you,” he chuckles, clasping the side of her face with his hand briefly before striding past her, composure already nearly broken by the small conversation, if it could even be referred to as such. Shouyou walks straight into Kenma’s office and slams the folder down on the desk, collapsing into a now-familiar seat. Kenma flinches at the noise and abrupt motions, glaring daggers at Shouyou, but begrudgingly undoes the folder and reveals the contents to the two of them. 

“What’s this about?” Kenma wonders, tone bitter. 

“I stayed up last night with agita so I compiled a report. It’s a time table of everything I’ve been doing, and includes an overview of tonight’s investigation.”

“So… you did my job for me?” Kenma raises an eyebrow and twirls a pen between his fingers, clearly unamused.

“No,” Shouyou clarifies, “It’s poorly written. Just… the confidential nonsense is also included. The more… repressed aspects of what’s been going on.” Kenma lifts a sheet of printer paper to his eye level and skims over it, then turning to Shouyou.

“I see.” He opens a file on his PC labeled _Lieutenant Hinata Shouyou_ and scrolls a ways down before typing. Shouyou remains in blank silence, looking past Kenma at the wall. Kenma’s office smelled chiefly of fake vanilla and dashed dreams. 

“I’ll be leaving, then. Do me a favor and photocopy the last three pages for Chief in case anything goes wayward,” orders Shouyou. Kenma gives a thumbs-up without so much as looking in Shouyou’s direction. As the door is shutting behind him, Shouyou makes out a faint murmur from Kenma that he was positive he wasn’t meant to hear.

“Be safe, Shouyou. Come home.”

He gets into his vehicle and nearly breaks into tears, narrowly missing a car crash on his way to his sector. In his defense, it was hard to see through a shroud of wetness in his eyes.

He parks the car behind Takeda’s shop in the one-way alley and wipes his eyes before exiting the car with a great sigh. He palms for his firearm, double and triple checking that he had it and spare ammunition, and finally leaves the dark alleyway to instead rush into the crowded streets in front of the shop. Inside the little shop were cheery voices, and a small peek through the curtain door tells Shouyou that his assumption was correct and that Takeda’s information was reliable. 

His restaurant is at max capacity, the streets just as crowded with people of all kinds hurrying along the dusty concrete to their newest destination. Shouyou files into the crowd and blends as best he can, looking up every so often to keep his bearings among the much taller civilians. 

Voices from stalls call to him and promise that their goods are worth buying, that they have magical properties or that their tilapia is the finest in all of Yokohama. Shouyou makes a mental note that he’ll have to return to this district in the future to bust some cons and illegal dealers, but shoos the thoughts away for now. 

“Ah, my young redhead! Please come check my wares! Only the finest!” A mustached man chortles in broken Japanese, thick with an accent that could only be Indian. His dark skin is patchy with acne scars, and one of his eyes is swollen from what was probably a fight. _Who the fu—_ Shouyou yelps as his arm is yanked harshly and his overcoat is smothered in grime from the lowlife’s grasp. He wrenches his arm up in an attempt to get away but the man’s grip is steeled and not going anywhere. “Dear boy, please won’t you buy something?” His warming smile morphs into a sneer that makes Shouyou’s heart drop to his ankles. _Not good, not good, shit—!_ Shouyou growls and tries in vain to loosen his arm again.

“Sir, please— don’t do this. I’m warning you!” Shouyou curses, sweating as a small crowd of onlookers cast their gazes onto the scene. The man’s eyes sparkle, mischievous and conniving. As Shouyou pulls desperately on his arm to resist being taken into the artisan stand, he reaches with his open hand for his holster, displaying it before the man in front of him as a threat above all else. The guy flinches when his swollen eyes travel over the gun, now clearly visible to any of the public surrounding him, and immediately lets go of Shouyou, whose hand flies to the wrist that was being held hostage to smooth over his coat and ease the pain. 

“A-ah. My good sir, please forgive me. I-I had no idea you h-had—“ Shouyou sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Stop. Talking. You’ve done enough damage. I’ll be sending in a task force to investigate the legitimacy of your practice posthaste. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he shuffles away as quickly as his stride could carry him, ducking into a crack between the walls of two shops across the way. His breaths come out rattled and with a dull realization Shouyou thinks about how quickly his cover had been blown. How long had he lasted? Five minutes? 

He smacks a hand tiredly against the wall, pulling out his phone. He texts Daichi about the man’s business, glancing up every couple of seconds to make sure he got the characters on the sign right, and when he’d settled that he remutes the device and slides it back into his pocket. His head hits the wall when he leans back to look up, his features sagging with fatigue. It’s only been three weeks, hasn’t it? How could his career go so South so soon? Maybe he should reconsider applying for Takeda’s…

“Pardon the intrusion…” an alluring voice to his right calls. Shouyou twitches, getting quickly to his feet and flattening the front of his overcoat.

“No, no. Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?” Shouyou plasters a fake smile on his cheeks and gives his most innocent eyes up at the two men before him. The first, the one that had spoke, was impossibly short, even smaller than Shouyou, with large, brown puppydog eyes and matching hair with a streak of blonde in the middle front. It was spiked up and added several necessary inches to his height. The latter of the two was completely bald and very tan, with near-black eyes and pointy, modified teeth. Tattoos peeked out from either one's sleeves and around their necks from beneath heavy black leather, but even despite all that their most striking features were the Clipped Crow syndicate earrings dangling from their earlobes. It appeared the two had a matching set. Shouyou instinctively straightens his posture. 

“Matter of fact, there is. Mind if we walk and talk?” Asks the bald one. Shouyou nods.

“By all means.” He takes several steps out and is flanked on either side by the two men, though their actions were less calculated and more… casual.

“Tanaka.” Says the one. That name rings a bell. Shouyou knows—

“And Nishinoya,” pipes up the small one. Shouyou cracks a tiny smile but his mind is whirring, spinning— because, oh god, Tanaka. Tanaka Ryuunouke was a syndicate head. If this was the same one as— no no, _no_ , Shouyou blanched. 

“A-a pleasure. I’m… Ukai.” _Really? The name of your dead Chief? Shouyou, you airhead!_ He chastises.

“Ukai, eh? Well, _Ukai_ , you really put that swindler back there in his place. That’s a military-grade weapon you’ve got, isn’t it?” Nishinoya flips his overcoat aside and licks his lips upon seeing the concealed weapon. Shouyou resists the urge to bat his hand away and instead softly moves it aside so his overcoat hangs loose again. 

“Well… short answer is yes. It’s been modified, though.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Their tech department at the station was phenomenal. Tanaka whistles low through his teeth, slinging an arm lazily over Shouyou’s shoulders as they kept pace along the path through the district. 

“I’ll be damned,” he titters, “you’re a mighty lucky guy Mr. Ukai. How do you go about getting your hands on a weapon like that anyhow?” Shouyou cringes inwardly.

“It’s a rather long story,” Shouyou dodges, pressing back against the arm slung around his shoulders. 

“Oh come on, surely a Lieutenant would know where to find one,” Nishinoya concludes. Shouyou stops walking as soon as his heart stops pounding. His eyes focus dead ahead at overwhelming nothingness. 

“S-sorry? _Lieutenant_? What—“ Tanaka releases a drawn out sigh. 

“Noya, you had to go and say something,” says Tanaka, pulling a long pipe from one of his pant legs. Shouyou takes in his surroundings, but he suddenly isn’t too confident; they’d led him to a darker part of the sector and he’d been none the wiser. Since when was he so… _easy_?! 

“Oh shut up, Ryu. He knew who we were. Didn't ‘ya, Lieutenant?” Nishinoya jabs with a sinister grin. Shouyou’s shaking hands reach for and unlatch his pistol, and he brandishes it with mock bravery, his mind only focused on how he’ll either escape this or never see his loved ones again. _Natsu, Mom… just hold on._

“W-what do you want with me? If it’s the bounty just blow my brains out already, get it over with!” He shouts. Nishinoya laughs.

“Ohoho nonono, we need you alive,” without another word, his arm extends from behind him with a small gun that fires a feathered projectile into his shoulder. 

“Wha?” Shouyou manages out weakly, before falling to his knees with the two staring down at him pitifully. 

“Night night,” Nishinoya cackles, putting his tranq gun away. It’s the last thing Shouyou sees before his world fades to blackness. 

When Shouyou comes to, he feels an overwhelming dampness over his clothes and skin. Cold. His shriveled skin is sticking to his sopping wet outfit, red tufts of muddied hair sticking to his forehead. As more of his senses return, he feels a scrap of fabric tied around his head that blankets the world in even more darkness. More secure ties fit around his waist, arms, and ankles. He’s seated in a chair, blindfolded, captured, and freezing. He grunts, but finds himself gagged, his drool mingling with the icy water, and so he tries again to scream. Though muffled, his ears count responsive noises around him, the bodies of around five or six individuals, all male. He wriggles desperately until footsteps sound from puddles on the floor, fast approaching. 

Rough hands grab at him mercilessly, yanking hard on his binds until the ones in his mouth and eyes are removed.

“Oh, so he’s finally awake?” Comes a taunt. His head ragdolls forward, chin hitting his chest. From his position, he can blearily make out a cement floor with fresh puddles, the smell of kerosene lingering on his freshly laundered clothes. The dampness of the room brings a mildewy odor and visibly molded walls, caked in patches of blackness against the dirty, rotted pine wood. The ambient light of the confirmed-kerosene lamps, hinges loose and nearly falling from the spongy wood, reflects in the puddles, and to his terror it reflects in the eyes of his captor. Shouyou grits his teeth, finding his voice, albeit raspy.

“ _You_ ,” he seethes, face-to-face with Oikawa Tooru. Millionaire playboy businessman, top dog in Yokohama, and apparently part of the syndicate. Oikawa’s face contorts into a goblin-esque smile. Ire weaves through Shouyou’s veins, bubbling in blood that beats demanding through his ears. Tears threaten to spew from Shouyou’s tired eyes, and fuck if they just might. 

“Me,” parrots Oikawa simply. Shouyou struggles against his bonds only to be slammed back into them by bodyguards. He recognized neither of the strongmen, but as he calmed enough to survey the room he spied the men he dimly recalled from his abduction… Noya and Tanaka. On the opposite side of the small interrogation room was another familiar face, one that left Shouyou with a strange mix of relief and abject horror. The man that started it all. His hitman. Kageyama Tobio. Before he could fully process the man leaning against the far wall staring with intent at the flickering of one of the lamps, Oikawa’s voice rang clear through the room again, rattling Shouyou in his chair. “Now, down to business.”


	6. Chapter 6

Shouyou cried freely and silently as Oikawa watched on. Twisted humor or not, Shouyou was being made the laughingstock of his own employment. He was once a hitman of his own, but now stood before this unlikely crowd he was more alone than he’d ever been on a mission in his entire life. Early thirties seems to be about as far as he’ll make it. 

“What business could you possibly have with me? Because I jailed that ass a bit back? That it, _Oikawa_?” Shouyou spits.

“Oh, so you _do_ know me! That makes things a lot easier.” Oikawa took some steps forward and holds up Shouyou’s chin so they were eye to eye, before speaking low and sickly sweet, “Oh, my dear Shouyou—“

“Don’t you _dare_ call me that!” Shouyou interjects, fresh anger boiling up to the surface. Oikawa backs up, hands raised. 

“Angry little one,” he grimaces, facing Kageyama as if it were his fault that Shouyou had lashed out. From his peripheral, Shouyou can see Kageyama sharpen his glare at Oikawa, shrugging. Oikawa’s features grow more discernible in the dark as Shouyou’s eyes adjust, his mussed light brown hair and almond eyes, a smirk that caused Shouyou’s stomach to lurch painfully as he watched on. “Well,” tuts the businessman, clenching a clump of Shouyou’s matted hair in his fist, forcing Shouyou to look up but not away from Kageyama as he came into view. “My dear _Shouyou_ ,” Oikawa spits the name this time with more emphasis, “care to know what will become of you?” Shouyou presses his teeth to his tongue from either angle, a preemptive action that he’ll take if need be. He doesn’t answer Oikawa either, simply staring with as much malice as he could muster through his teary eyes. A giggle erupts from the man in front of him, so Shouyou shuts his eyes.

“Oikawa, he’s a person, too. Just get on with it, already,” shouts Kageyama, approaching the two at the center of the room. “Or would you rather have me take him as he is?” Oikawa snickers.

“Fine then, if you’re going to be impatient… Shouyou, you see, I’m not just an eccentric businessman. I only got there because, well, I work here. _In fact_ , I run this place. Me and a couple divisions, that is. Make sense?” Shouyou spat a lump of congealed spit onto the ground, surprised it to see it held a red tint.

“That all?” He grimaces.

“Mm, no, not exactly.” Oikawa swiveled behind him, grabbing either shoulder before leaning down into Shouyou’s ear. “You, my dear boy, are going to be so useful,” Oikawa places a soft kiss on the shell of his ear, and Shouyou flinches immediately away, pleading eyes finding the nearest person… Kageyama. The black-haired gentleman widens his gaze at Shouyou, but then seems to have a sense of pity of some kind, stepping up to guide Oikawa away. 

“Sir, please let me. What good will it do to tell him, anyway? Allow me to take him to his cell.” Oikawa backs off, engaged in an intense staredown with Kageyama, though it seems the latter wins. Shouyou sighs, slumping back into his chair again until the loading of an automatic pistol shakes him from his stupor. 

“Remember, Kageyama, he’s your responsibility,” Warns Oikawa, earning two snorts from across the room, likely Noya and Tanaka. Kageyama nods, pistol in one hand and busying his other with undoing Shouyou’s binds. 

Soon enough he’s freed, but still severely weakened by the anesthetic, and so when he’s jostled to his feet he nearly falls right forward, and what a sight it would have been to see him faceplant into a puddle. His heels are heavy beneath him, unwilling to move entirely, and his arms hang limp at his sides. The only thing keeping him standing is Kageyama, who slings one of the redhead’s arms over his shoulders and grabs his waist to hold him up. His pistol is still in his off-hand, but Shouyou feels it might be overkill at the time. 

“Can you walk?” His captor asks, surprisingly soft. If Shouyou weren’t so delused, he might’ve found it attractive. 

“Is this a tropical vacation? No, I can’t walk,” Shouyou burbles. Kageyama laughs, helping him forward and out from the sickly room as the remaining Crows group up and start a discussion, several eyes following the two out. They enter into a much better kept hallway, though the smell of mildew remains. In the halls, lit by old, metal-caged ceiling lights, is the same pine interior and concrete flooring, no overwhelming wetness to be observed. A step at a time, the two amble through the facility until they reach a room with a brass door, almost militaristic, and enter into a holding cell. The ceiling was leaking in a couple of spaces, forming white calcium deposits on the concrete flooring, and grey drip marks littered the identical walls. Kageyama opened the metal-barred cell door, dropping Shouyou on the bench inside, where he promptly collapses. Kageyama turns as if he were going to leave but shuts the door behind him, locking it, before taking a seat in a fold out chair beneath another kerosene lamp. It was the only light source in the room, and it cast odd shadows along the walls behind Shouyou.

“So what, are you my personal security?” Shouyou manages out, only one eye open to look at Kageyama, slouched in his own chair with an inquisitive eye on Shouyou.

“Something like that,” a pause, “You’re my responsibility, after all.” Shouyou doesn’t miss his eye roll, to which the redhead smiles sheepishly. 

“You don’t seem very happy here, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, because you have room to talk. You’re a manipulative asshole, Hinata,” He crows, crossing his arms.

“Sorry,” Shouyou says, and he means it. With everything going on in his head lately, he figured an apology might as well be in order. Slowly, feeling is returning to his appendages, so he sits up slightly, finding Kageyama watching his every move. 

“Sorry, huh. That’s rich coming from one of the most well-off vigilantes in Yokohama.” Shouyou shrugs weakly.

“Say what you want, Crow, but I’m miserable.” Shouyou laughs away the tears that prick the corners of his eyes. 

“I find that hard to believe.” Shouyou shrugs again.

“Say what you want, Kageyama, really. I’ve stopped caring. Live or die, I’m not sure I’ll ever be happy in this business. Not anymore, at least.” He stops trying to hide his exhaustion, letting the tears fall freely. “Haha, it’s not like it matters to you anyway, right? It’s your job to retrieve that bounty, right? I’ll die at one point or another.” 

“No.”

“Sorry?”

“I said, _no._ They changed plans, actually. You’re being held for ransom. Oikawa wants double the bounty price from your agency before two weeks have passed. Or you’ll be executed.” Shouyou widens his eyes.

“So that’s it, then? Alright.” He leans back and continues to let the tears trickle along his cheeks. “Does Oikawa know that they won’t comply? I’m valuable, but our code forbids us to act for the sake of a single officer.” Kageyama clicks his tongue.

“Unfortunate.” Is all he says, but Shouyou doesn’t miss the strange look in Kageyama’s eyes as he roves over Shouyou’s pitiful state.

“That it is.” Shouyou confirms with a sniffle, having already accepted his fate. “My only regret will be not saying goodbye. To my mom and my sister, I mean…”

“You have family? But your files—“

“You’ve seen them? Ah, we thought our firewall was indestructible.”

“Well—“

“No, go ahead. What about my file?” He traced some cracks in the ceiling with his tearful eyes, twiddling his fingers as he regained feeling in them. Kageyama faces the ground as he speaks.

“Your file said that you… well, that you were an orphan. An only child. That you worked behind the scenes to stay alive, and that you really enjoyed working as a vigilante…”

“Yeah, that sounds like Kenma to have written up something like that,” he chuckles. “What do you care, anyway? Why are you even talking to me?”

“Well gee, would you rather sit here in silence? News flash, buster, you’ve got two weeks left to live, right? Either you talk and maybe I get a deck of playing cards, or we sit here in utter silence for two weeks straight. Take your pick.” Kageyama was glaring now, tone thick with irritation. Shouyou snorts.

“I see your point. I’ll humor you, why the fuck not?” Shouyou fixes on Kageyama. “Well, for starters, I loved my job. Up until about four weeks ago when things went awol. It’s been… several panic attacks daily, a lot of crying,” he gestured faintly to his current situation, “and it was a lot of deliberation. Should I kill Kageyama Tobio before he kills me?” Shouyou squints his eyes, heaving a deep breath and with it, shaking out his limbs, all of which had some level of feeling returned. 

“You… wow.”

“Yep. Life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, is it? My little sister just got a teaching job, I promised her that once I dismantled the syndicate, I would go visit them. It’s been several years since I’ve seen them, actually…” he thinks of Natsu, bitterness towards his situation bubbling up. He’d gladly give his life for the sake of all good things, but he couldn’t bear to think of what it would do to Natsu and Mom.

“I mean… sorry, Hinata.”

“Because you’d care, _sure_ —“

“I’m still _human_ , you prick!” Counters Kageyama, voice raised. “I don’t _want_ to pretend like it doesn’t _suck_ that your family will mourn you.” Shouyou falls into a state of surprise.

“O-oh.”

Kageyama leaves and returns with a plate of mediocre food following their conversation, and it becomes routine for Kageyama to leave and bring meals three times a day, with bathroom excursions when he wakes up and before he goes to sleep. Between eating and sleeping, the two exchange small talk that keeps them both occupied. Neither shares any inside information, but at the very least the two discover that Shouyou is a little less than a year older, and that both had similar upbringings following their high school graduations. On the fourth day Shouyou remains captive, Kageyama brings a deck of cards, just as he said he might. 

“Oh wow,” murmurs Shouyou, greedily taking the pliant playing cards between his fingers. “What games do you know?”

“Blackjack, poker, war… maybe 500 rummy if I think hard enough,” Kageyama replies, snatching the cards back and shuffling them. The two sit face-to-face on either side of the metal bars, and Kageyama holds the cards aloft to deal.

“Oh! Uh, I can play rummy. Deal seven,” Shouyou mumbles. Kageyama goes about dealing, quiet, and flips a card over from the top of the deck. “So,” begins Shouyou, “where’d you learn your card games?” 

“Tendou. Head of gambling. He’s a couple of years older than me. Bright red hair, a maniac, and one helluva better,” Kageyama chuckles. 

“Oh. Maniac?” Shouyou echoes, taking the top card from the pile and laying down a set of 2s, discarding a 7 of spades. 

“Yeah. In high school everyone called him a monster because of how he looked and acted. Same deal among Crows.” Kageyama drops him a king of diamonds on his next discard. His ace of diamonds and ace of clubs sit pretty in his hand, and he hopes he picks up the queen of diamonds before Kageyama goes out. 

A silence stretches on for several moments, the two gentlemen engrossed in their game of cards, of which Kageyama had taken the lead. He had only two cards left from laying down and playing off of Shouyou, so the redhead tossed one of his aces onto the stack. Kageyama picks it up and matches it with two aces of his own, effectively ending the round. 

“You won,” Shouyou declares, spinning his ace around so that Kageyama could see the irony. Kageyama gets a shit-eating grin.

“I did,” he agrees, counting up his points, “Seventy. You?”

“Broke even.” Kageyama hums in acknowledgment. Shouyou takes the deck and begins his own bout of shuffling, shivering a little from being sat on the chilly, damp floor.

“Are you cold?” 

“Ah, it’s not bad,” Shouyou argues, though it seems Kageyama isn’t having it.

“Deal our hands, I’ll be back shortly,” he steels himself and leaves Shouyou without another word. Several minutes later the door slams open and Kageyama stumbles in, breathing heavily as he sinks down the side of the door.

“Uh, Kage—“

“My sister— she, _hoo_ , she wanted to search me. I booked it,” he supplies.

“Wh— Kageyama, why couldn’t she have searched you?” Kageyama just glares at him, upending his black leather jacket for another jacket to tumble out in addition to a water bottle that had steamed up in the top half. Shouyou eyes him suspiciously.

“Is that poisoned?”

“What? _No!_ You know how much trouble I’d be in if I _poisoned you_?!” Shouyou puts his hands up in defeat. 

“Sorry! Didn’t know it was a touchy subject.” Kageyama glares at him again— something Shouyou was learning wasn’t an active show of malice, and something he was growing to find more attractive than not— before retaking his seat across from Shouyou and pulling his cards into his hand. Shouyou looks past him at the jacket and warm bottle, then back to Kageyama, confused. “I thought…?”

“When you win. When you win, you can have those,” he explains, stealing a card from the top of the deck only to immediately discard it. “Your turn,” Kageyama jeers to Shouyou’s chagrin, and the shorter of the two is certain he can see devil’s horns sprout from Kageyama’s forehead. 

In the end, Shouyou scrapes by with the most pathetic win he’d ever gotten. He’d only won by twenty points, and they’d both hit five hundred. So, as per their agreement, Kageyama handed over one of his jackets and the mystery liquid. By the time he downed the bottle of what turned out to be chai tea, it was hardly warm, but the jacket he donned, on the other hand, was surprisingly insulating. Of course it was two sizes too big, and the sleeves hung over his fingertips, but it smelled like lavender laundry detergent and cologne, so it was forgivable for being oversized. The interior felt like fleece, and the leather on the outside was authentic, matte, and well-worn. There was a bullet hole through one of the front pockets that was big enough to fit a finger through. Shouyou chose to ignore it and not press the issue as he zipped it up around himself and scooted back against his bench where he slept, facing Kageyama with somewhat of a grin.

“Thank you.” Is all he says, breathing deeply around the scent that so easily altered the feel of the musty, kerosene-lit room. Kageyama looks away.

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” he replies, shuffling closer to the bars with his elbows over his knees, staring at Shouyou through his fringe. “Are you going to try to sleep?” Shouyou gives a “mm-hm” of confirmation, adjusting his position slightly. 

“Good night, Hinata.” Kageyama says, for the first time since his arrival. Shouyou hides his reluctant smile in his sleeves. 

“Night, Kageyama.”


	7. Chapter 7

Not enough time felt like it had passed before the night of Shouyou’s execution was at hand. As Shouyou lie awake the day prior at the very crack of dawn, his mind swam. He thought of his childhood, his mom, Natsu, his high school volleyball club, and even his coworkers, which he had finally decided were his friends after all. All those memories would vanish before the next day’s dawn, and the thought alone was growing more and more terrifying. Shouyou awoke to his own crying, his cheeks dampened by salty tears, and sat up to find himself all alone. Not even Kageyama was there for company, so he assumed he was out either having or getting breakfast. Shouyou tucked himself farther into what had become _his_ leather jacket, wiping his tears with the back of his palm. A couple of minutes pass before the handle to the door jiggles and Kageyama busts through, two plates balanced in his open hand. 

“Morning,” he says, oddly cheerful given the circumstance. Shouyou gives a small wave, inching forward to the bars of his cell. Kageyama peers down at him. “Oh, wh… what’s going on?” Shouyou gestures to the thirteen tally marks he’d made in a patch of rust from the cell bars. Kageyama’s face falls. “Oh.” His nose scrunches up and as he leans over to set the food down, he fixes his eyes pointedly on Shouyou, flaring his nostrils. “Fuck it,” he says suddenly, making Shouyou flinch as he went to grab for his food. His captor knocks the trays aside and pulls a key ring from his pocket to unlock Shouyou’s cell. He pries open the cell door and invites Shouyou outside. 

“Kageyama?” He wonders aloud.

“Come on. I seriously doubt you’re going to make an escape attempt,” he shows his pistol for emphasis, but gestures kindly to a space across from him as he forgoes his chair in favor of the floor. 

“Thank you,” Shouyou whispers, wiping his eyes again. But, Kageyama was right. He’d accepted his fate for the most part, and trying to escape now would just be stupid. Regardless, Shouyou knows his interest should be centered around his meal. 

Together, the two enjoy some pancakes Kageyama had retrieved from upstairs in the syndicate’s commons, talking sparingly as they chomped down on syrup-laden flapjacks. After eating, Shouyou leans to and fro to stretch his body into a limber form, standing at last to try and touch his toes; he has to shed the jacket to come close. Just as he was a couple of millimeters away, a warm hand appears at the base of his back, pressing firmly on his spine those last few increments. Shouyou’s back flames and thank god he’s wearing a shirt to hide the display; he exhales shakily and holds his position for a tad longer, and when he stands Kageyama is staring at him, an emotion in his eyes Shouyou can’t properly place. He nods his thanks hastily, to which Kageyama averts his eyes to the lamp, watching as the flame dances behind the smoky glass. 

“Yeah,” is lamely all he says. Kageyama shoves the food trays aside into a corner and invites Shouyou to be escorted out to the bathrooms. Per usual, they speak little on the short walk and when they return the two seem at an utter loss for words. They lean against the same wall, their backs dampening from the dew that gathered along the cracks, and just look at each other. Kageyama engages in cautious observation of the wrinkles in Shouyou’s white shirt and his dirtied jeans, a brief wondering of where his overcoat had gone, and probably awful smelling socks concealed within Shouyou’s boots. Between the two, Kageyama looked unsurprisingly much better off, with his grey camouflage cargo pants and silver-buckled belt that hung shallow on his waist. His hair was parted to the side, and the same color as his dark T-shirt he had tucked into the hem of his pants. 

“Kageyama?” Shouyou finds himself asking before he could stop, “do you have any regrets?” Kageyama went still, looking Shouyou carefully in the face, searching with everything he had for some kind of pity. Instead, Shouyou looked about to cry, every muscle in his face screaming _I don’t want to die_. Kageyama knew then that Shouyou had regrets, too. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Like what?” Kageyama isn’t expecting the follow-up question.

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

“Tell me? If I’m to die tonight, I just want to know. I want to know that there’s hope for the Clipped Crows,” Whispers Shouyou, reaching to cling to a sleeve of Kageyama’s shirt insistently. Kageyama swallows thickly.

“Okay. Where should I start?” Shouyou shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, then…”

_Kageyama Tobio was born into his family with a loving father, a kind mother, his grandfather, and a bully of an older sister, Miwa. From the moment of his birth, he was compared to his sister, and Miwa was always the one in charge. It was just how he lived and how he was raised._

_“She weighed eight, and he’s scrawny! Only six pounds!” He remembers his grandfather telling his mom when he first gained cognitive thought, and marked it as the first negative comparison of many to come. He ignored it later on. Being a baby wasn’t a defining feature._

_He attended a private school with only about one hundred or so students, and was pressured constantly by his teachers. For the first year in school he would cry often and in secret so he wasn’t made fun of by his few classmates or reprimanded by the teachers who, he had learned quickly, were instructed to dissuade any emotional connection to work. By his second year, he had honed his ability to hide his emotions to near perfection before he even knew what emotions were._

_When he turned seven is when his father was killed, and simultaneously when his mother sat him and Miwa down for a talk._

_“Do you kids know what Mommy and Daddy do?” His mother sat before them, unmoving and with not a single tear in her eye, something Kageyama had associated with normalcy. The news of her husband’s passing was not the least bit shocking, and Kageyama was too young to know any better about life or death._

_“Mommy is a superhero!” Miwa shouted, spinning in her seat with her arms extended like Superman. Their mother creased her eyebrows and looked at Miwa sadly._

_“Mommy isn’t a superhero, neither is Daddy. The world thinks we’re the villains, sweetie,” She chided, taking her children into her lap. She plants a kiss on either of their heads._

_“Daddy isn’t going to be home, sweethearts. Daddy went out and acted out, and now he’s gone. You two will be okay, right?” Kageyama’s brain processed this information analytically. If he wanted to be better than Miwa, he’d be fine on his own, wouldn’t he?_

_“Okay, Mommy. I’ll be okay,” is what he told his mother at seven years old, sitting in her skirted lap beside his sister._ She _had been crying, and later that night she was scolded. The next time he saw her cry was when their mom passed away, and then never again._

_Perhaps it was because she was older and was closer with their father that she was so impacted by his passing. There was no funeral, no viewing, and the last they’d seen of their father was in pictures before even those were burned for the safety of their family. Even in the present, Kageyama remembered very little about his father, and hardly recalled his voice._

_Come high school, Kageyama was well aware of his family’s involvement with the Clipped Crow syndicate. Born and raised in Yokohama as he were, he knew the risks. He began training beneath his grandfather once he began high school, maintaining an unhealthy work/life balance between school, training, and free time. Miwa, who had graduated before him, was already working odd jobs under the Illegal Parts division, having inherited a place almost from her father’s passing years ago. Kageyama went to school, learned as best he could, came home, did homework, and then practiced with his grandfather. He had no down time whatsoever, but the payoff was massive: by his last year of high school he was the perfect assassin. His marksmanship was never less than spot on, and if he had a knife he could hit a bullseye from across an entire archery range. By the time his grandfather passed he had long since retired from syndicate work, choosing to live instead as one of Oikawa’s personal attendees during the day. Kageyama was a perfect replica of him, but his only difference was his sensitivity. Upon his grandfather’s death, Kageyama became weak. He had, against all his conversion, learned to care deeply for someone, and it had been stripped away from him in a matter of moments._

_With his mother retired from the syndicate and working in the tech department for Oikawa’s above-ground business, and Miwa running an entire division, Kageyama was left entirely alone and without direction. He took odd jobs under Miwa’s direction, and with a sudden increase in free time, took up bad habits. He smoked, sometimes not just tobacco, got piercings and had the occasional small tattoo, became obsessed with biking to the point that he had even raced several times, and ultimately went drinking by himself and hooked up with strangers._

_His life became a vicious, repetitive cycle of self-abusive hobbies and mentally-draining jobs. He killed for a living, and with every splatter of blood resulting from a bullet he’d fired, he fell just that small amount more from grace. He began to sell in addition to kill, the firearm components and hallucinogens only adding to the accumulating death toll. Every night when he stood before his mirror prior to showering, the scars littering his body reminded him of his shortcomings, of people he tried to kill fighting back, or of injuries he sustained when a sale went wrong. He recalls the time he was out of commission for a month when a drug addict demanded he hand over all he had and denied, and how the gun being pulled from his hips went in slow motion as the bullet sank into his side and stuck there._

_The tragedy was one of his first tastes of true pain, and one of the only times he himself had doubled over crying in pain. The man died shortly after by Kageyama’s hands._

_From that point forward, killing became second nature when faced with adverse effects. The numbness spread and spread until the only thing he cared about was self-preservation. In all honesty, it was superficial to think he could ever be forgiven or justified enough to gain love from anyone, even himself._

_That brought him to the present, where faked smiles became a daily occurrence and when he looked in the mirror, the person looking back didn’t even care for him. Pursuing Hinata had become his only purpose and job in the passing weeks, and he had thought long and hard, realizing how much he would regret killing the vigilante. Was his life better than his own? Didn’t he deserve to live instead of Kageyama?_

Shouyou watched in awe as one tear after another slipped from Kageyama’s distant eyes, and something inside his heart snaps. He reaches a small hand to wipe away the tears from his cheeks, cradling his cheek when he’s done. 

“You don’t cry, right?” Shouyou laughs softly, though the noise was pained. Kageyama laughed in return, sniffling as he brought his own hands up to wipe away the wetness. “Oh, Kageyama…” Shouyou disregarded his situation entirely, his natural kindness overtaking him as he wrapped his arms around Kageyama fondly. “You deserve to live like anyone else, Tobio. Those regrets, being a part of the syndicate… that’s something you can change with time. Okay?” Shouyou tilts his head up to peer at Kageyama’s healed jaw scar, a pink stripe against a splash of milky skin, his eyes fathoms deep in a clouded, icy ocean. Tobio nods down into Shouyou’s own, golden in a rosy incandescence provided by the kerosene lamp. His arms are shaky, but he returns the embrace with as much tightness he could muster, crushing Shouyou in his arms as more tears fell down his chin into the tufts of fluffy orange hair. 

“Thank you,” he says, a small smile on his face when they pull apart, “I’m going to keep that in mind going forward.”

“I’m glad. You’ve got to live for me now, okay?” Shouyou whispers, nailing them back down to reality, where in only a few hours the redhead would be executed. 

“Damn, just when I began to like you, too,” Tobio jokes, ruffling Shouyou’s hair. Shouyou glares. 

“Hey!” 

Tobio laughs, loud and nasally because of his crying fit. He wasn’t exactly lying. The redhead had really grown on him. Not only was he brutally honest and genuine, but his bubbly attitude while they played cards or his giant grin when he emerged victorious was priceless and made him that much more of a lovable anomaly. From their place against the wall, he looks down at Shouyou, arms crossed and eyes slightly teary. 

“I’m sorry, that was terrible. But I’m serious. You might be the only friend I’ve ever had.” 

“Hmph. For what it’s worth, you’re pretty cool, too,” Shouyou mumbles, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding himself within them. He supposes they _had_ bonded over this whole ordeal, and it wasn’t a secret that they found each other attractive, but add the regret of not being able to save Tobio to Shouyou’s list of regrets. His only semblance of a close friend, someone that was supposed to be the enemy he was working to kill, had turned out to be the only person who might understand him. 

Tobio leans his head against Shouyou’s shoulder, sighing as his face finally dries, a hand weaving between the shorter man’s thin fingers. 

“Can we stay like this for a while?” He asks, scooting right up against the other. Shouyou nods, resting his cheek against the top of Kageyama’s head. 

“Sure. I don’t mind spending my final hours like this. It’s better than all alone in that cell, after all.”

“You can sleep, I’ll wake you when it’s time, alright?” Shouyou nods, gently opening his fist to hold more securely onto Kageyama’s slim fingers. 

“Alright.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy November! I hope everyone had a good Halloween! I’ve updated the tags on this fic (as I should) and have set up a schedule finally. I’ll update Fridays/Saturdays/Sundays, varying weekly, until I finish up with this fic and start my next one. I hope everyone enjoys. :)

“Hinata,” whispers Tobio, prodding Shouyou’s shoulder. “ _Hinataaa_!” Louder this time, and he began to shake the redhead back and forth. He stirs, groaning as if he were a child being roused for school, and reaches to rub the sleep from his eyes. Immediately, he searches the room for the voice, for Tobio. Once he finds him, his posture relaxes and he grabs for the other man, who helps lift him to his feet. “It’s time,” he assures him, pulling him under his chin for a hug before they leave the cell. “Gather your things.” Shouyou nods, retrieving the leather jacket Tobio had given him and slinging it around his shoulders. 

“Ready,” he says in a small voice. Tobio’s gut lurches uncomfortably, and his resolve hardens. He flicks his eyes to Shouyou, taking his hand forcefully in his own and opening the room’s door. He pulls Shouyou along with him through the hallway a good couple meters before squeezing his hand reassuringly, taking an abrupt right turn. Shouyou keeps pace by doubling his strides, but they soon enter a different part of the facility that Shouyou doesn’t recognize, and as the halls widen and improve in quality, they pass more Crows that eye Shouyou like predators. 

“Takin’ out the trash, eh, Kageyama?” Asks a burly man as they hurry past. He doesn’t respond to the man’s question, instead cutting another corner. None of the rooms they pass look particularly like Shouyou’s did, and as they continue on, windows begin appearing at the tops of staircases that put nighttime Yokohama on display.

“Uh, Tobio? Are you sure it’s okay for me to be visible like this?” He squeaks out. Tobio shakes his head.

“What?! Then where are we going if I’m not supposed to be here?” 

“ _Out_ ,” he grits out, his other hand held just over the black pistol at his side.

“ _Out?!_ ” Squawks Shouyou, nearly tripping. 

“Shut up, stupid! The security will hear you!” He yanks forcefully to bring Shouyou back to his side, rushing them forward again. If Shouyou’s head wasn’t spinning before, it is now. 

“Kageyama, you can’t do this! You’ll be _killed_ for _treason_!” 

“I said, _shut up_!” Shouyou flinches at the tone, momentarily freezing in his tracks. In that same second, the ugly fluorescent lights all simultaneously fizzle out. “Shit!” Curses Tobio, pulling Shouyou along again when the lights begin a slow flash from red to darkness. 

“Tobio?!” Shouyou shouts, panic-stricken. 

“We have to _go_!” He breaks into a sprint with Shouyou on his tail, now fueled well enough by adrenaline to sprint quick enough to nearly pass Tobio. The noise of a breach siren fill their ears, a high whine that makes Shouyou wince against the hammering of his heart. People in the halls appear from doorways and make grabs for the two, but on the way towards two well-dressed women with Manila folders, Tobio passes Shouyou a kunai and whips out his pistol, pulling the trigger with a warning shot. The women flatten to the walls as they hustle by, and then there are men coming up from behind them and some turning corners up ahead. Shouyou tails Tobio as closely as he can, cutting the corners with the knowledge that his life likely depends on it. More windows lie up ahead, along with a stairwell where footsteps begin echoing. This new part of the facility, an office building, doesn’t seem like it knows entirely what’s going on. Shouyou feels a pang of understanding for the poor bystanders.

“Shouyou, come _on_!” Tobio urges, launching himself to the landing at the base of one of the flights. Shouyou doesn’t hesitate but for when he feels a hand gripping his shoulder. He doesn’t think before sinking the kunai into warm flesh, stumbling to his feet with the help of Tobio when he lands on his ass before the taller man at the base of the stairs. Together they amble as quickly as humanly possible down the remaining stairs into a garage. They fly out into the open space and Tobio does a circle looking for something before pulling Shouyou by the shirt in the direction of his motorcycle, which Shouyou faintly recognizes. 

“Come on, _come on_ —“ an elevator by the stairwell sounds off and another wave of panic washes over the two. Tobio shoves his helmet over his head and clambers on, forcing Shouyou on behind him and handing him the pistol before kicking it into high gear to tear out of the parking spot and down two levels to the ground floor. Gunshots sound from behind them, and the tires squeal against the concrete as they cut a sharp turn that leads onto the open road. Several cars pull out behind them, more bullets whizzing past them as they weave between cars on the busy streets of Yokohama. The bullets keep coming closer until—

“Fuck!” Howls Shouyou over the wind, sinking forward into Kageyama as searing pain rips through his body. Blood leaks from a new hole in his shoulder, flying off the leather in small droplets that get lost to the high-speed wind enveloping them, and Shouyou raises Tobio’s pistol with the same arm and grits his teeth as he prepares to fire. The yaw of the bike throws off his aim for the first shot, which lands with a _dink_ in the metal bumper of the car, but he compensates for the second shot and fires into a tire behind them. The car loses control immediately, veering off the road with significant spin as a screeching noise sounded off behind them. Tobio runs a red light where a car nearly clips the license plate of the bike, and then skids into a turn where his foot hits the ground before he zooms down an alley towards the docks. He stops and cuts the headlight, pressing an insistent hand over Shouyou’s heavy breathing. 

Through the opening in the alleyway, the two watch as the ambient light grows greener and a group of plain, glossy black cars fly past. Only then do the two exhale, if only saved for a small moment.

“Tobio, we can’t stay here,” Shouyou insists, clamping a hand over his bleeding shoulder. 

“Y-yeah. Where’s your apartment?” In the next moment, Tobio has the motorcycle turned around speeding down the town’s backstreets in the direction of Shouyou’s apartment, ducking around any Clipped Crow hideouts or high traffic areas. Shouyou can’t be bothered to ask how Tobio knows he owned an apartment, instead focused on keeping his shoulder from losing feeling. He takes a back route into Shouyou’s apartment complex’s garage and pulls the motorcycle into his parking space that he never used. He gets off first and puts his helmet back into its compartment, helping Shouyou off the bike and into the elevator to his floor, pulling Shouyou’s key off his key ring (why did he even have that?) and opening the door before ushering them inside, careful to only spill a little blood on their way up. 

They skip removing their shoes and Shouyou guides them into the bathroom where he promptly sits with a groan on the edge of the tub, shucking his blood-dampened clothes off and shoving them into the tub. Tobio searches through the cabinets for supplies, placing bandages, a needle and thread, tweezers, and antibiotic on the edge of the tub beside Shouyou.

“You are way too prepared for this sort of thing, Shouyou—“ he explains, attempting to thread the needle with his shaky hands. Shouyou inhales sharply, using his spare hand to look in the mirror as he moves the tweezers into the gap in his shoulder, extracting a 9 mm and dropping it to the floor, bloodied. How it had even gotten jammed under Shouyou’s skin was not something he even stops to consider. Tobio cringes as it rattles against the tile flooring, finally getting the thread through the eye of the needle. 

“Tobio, Tobio _stop_ ,” Tobio stops in his actions to look up at Shouyou, having taken a knee before him. “Get the peroxide. Brown bottle,” he grunts, biting his cheek to get through the pain. Tobio flips around and digs around in the sink cabinet again, handing over the bottle and watching with hurt as the redhead pours it over the wound, sucking in air from between his teeth. 

“Shouyou, that’s enough, let me—“

“Give me the needle, Tobio. I’ve done this before, and I’ll do it again,” he insists. Tobio doesn’t budge.

“Let me do this for you, Shouyou. You aren’t alone, and this isn’t something you should feel responsible for. Let me help!” He demands in response. The two share an intense glaring contest, but Tobio squints and curses under his breath, wrangling Shouyou until he had pierced the skin of his shoulder and began stitching it up.

“See? Not bad. Focus on not passing out, already, okay?” Shouyou groans, either from pain or irritation Tobio isn’t sure, but allows him to patch his wound. Shouyou grows determined to shower, and does so while Tobio sits on the toilet lid, staring thoughtfully and worriedly at the ceiling before Shouyou crawls out in a pair of boxers. He stills while Tobio dresses his shoulder in gauze. With his shoulder secured in a sling, Shouyou meanders into the hall to toss his soiled clothes into the washing machine, Tobio keeping just behind him, and even follows him into the kitchen where he pours himself a glass of water and downs several painkillers. A long sigh escapes him, and he brushes through his hair stiffly with his good hand.

“Fuck,” he says, leaning heavily into the counter.

“Yeah,” Tobio agrees, doing the same from across the quaint kitchen. Shouyou eyes him as he takes his last gulp of water, waving him into the living room before settling down on his couch, patting the seat beside him.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Tobio.”

“What? Me?! What the fuck did I do?” Tobio yelps, waving an accusing finger at Shouyou, who raises a tired eyebrow and pinches the bridge of his nose. Never a break among these two. 

“Oh, I don’t know. _Commit treason_?!”

“Yeah, because I wanted to be _happy_!”

“By saving someone like _me_?” Shouyou wails, tilting his head over the back of the couch. Tobio’s face turns red.

“Yes, dipshit! And I’d do it again!”

“Why?! You can’t go back or you’ll be killed! You know the inner workings of that place, they’ll hunt you to the end of the earth in order to make sure the syndicate stays in business!” Shouyou was yelling now, just quiet enough that his neighbors wouldn’t be able to hear him.

“I don’t care, Shouyou! At least I won’t die doing something I regret!” Tobio bears down on him, a single finger applying pressure to his chest. Shouyou’s eyelids well up with tears, his heart breaking into a million shards of glass that threaten to crack open a hole in his chest. All this talk of regret— and here he is trying to deny Tobio any sort of comfort or strength when he’s finally broken out of the shell that has had him caged his whole life. 

“Tobio…”

“What, Shouyou? I finally found something to live for, just—“ he couldn’t let him finish, instead leaning up to catch his mouth in his own, tears streaming down his face. It was a quick and chaste kiss, but it was enough to quiet him.

“Shut up. I get it. I’m just angry because I don’t want to lose you either, stupid,” Shouyou admits, propping himself on his elbow to look fondly over Tobio. “I’m sorry.” Tobio’s eyes soften, his mouth slowly morphing into a smile, removing his accusing finger and settling back down on the cushions. 

“No, no. It’s… okay, I just… overreacted,” Tobio assures him, leaning forward and taking Shouyou’s cheek in his hand. His gaze wanders over Shouyou’s face, ending on his lips. “Can I?” He asks, inching his face even closer. Shouyou nods, averting his eyes to the floor before shutting them completely, succumbing to only the feeling of warmth on his own lips as he’s guided into a sweet kiss that greatly outlasts the previous one. Tobio is slow and gentle not only with his lips but with his hands, which caress Shouyou gently and with perfect awareness of his injury. Too soon, they pull away again.

“Idiot,” remarks Shouyou, crashing their lips together again with more force, his good hand grabbing a handful of Tobio’s shirt to pull him forward. Tobio has the nerve to laugh through their kiss, but Shouyou would be lying if it didn’t make him smile even a little bit, too. A flat hand roams along the outside of his bare thigh, sliding up to cup his ass and pull him gently into Tobio’s lap where Shouyou wraps his legs around the taller man’s waist. He breaks away from the kiss to grin stupidly, slotting his hips against Tobio’s, before returning with more fervor. He rests a hand beneath Tobio’s rucked-up black shirt, on the bare skin of his side, and feels a sense of gratification when goosebumps prickle over the smooth surface. The touch makes Tobio gasp quietly, giving Shouyou the opportunity to slip his tongue past his lips to explore his mouth more demandingly. He laves over the round metal ball atop Tobio’s tongue, dick twitching at the thought of what effect it might have elsewhere on his pale body. Tobio senses it just as he does, hands taking to the round globes of Shouyou’s ass to hoist him clean off the couch and carry him around it, peering into doorways until he spies a bed. 

Shouyou capitalizes on his distracted state, kissing along the larger man’s neck, chin, and throat, earning him some soft sighs in response. 

Tobio pushes the door wide enough to fit them both through, gently laying Shouyou out on the bed before kneeling on the edge as he takes off his shirt and undoes his belt, leaving both hanging over the foot of the bed. He crawls over Shouyou, one knee between the other’s legs, caging his head between his arms as he leans down to again take his lips for a kiss. Shouyou’s hand is everywhere before it finally settles behind Tobio’s neck, pulling him down for a better angle that has him near seeing stars. Tobio, he finds, smells faintly of cigarette smoke and bourbon, and has a similar taste about him. His pale complexion tends to brighten the blush on his shoulders and cheeks, giving way to his indigo eyes as they brighten with every motion. Shouyou brings a halt to his advances suddenly, guiding one of Tobio’s hands to lay over his chest where his heart flutters beneath his ribs. Tobio’s eyes flick to Shouyou’s as he pulls his lips away, searching them in the dim light of Shouyou’s bedroom. A small grin graces the redhead’s features while he rests his own hand over Tobio’s, propping himself up enough to place butterfly kisses all over Tobio’s nose. 

“You’re so pretty,” Shouyou murmurs against his reddening skin, to which Tobio lets out a rough sigh.

“Dammit, Shou,” is all he says as he leans back over Shouyou and captures his lips again. As the kiss lulls them on, Shouyou’s hand runs along the curvatures of Tobio’s face, running along the thin pink line on his jaw. He breathes softly when Tobio pulls away.

“Sorry, Tobio…” his voice barely a whisper.

“No, no baby, it’s okay, I promise,” he replies, sinking down to kiss over Shouyou’s own jawline and throat. His body lurches when Tobio bites lightly on his collar, punching a noise from his mouth that startles the both of them. Shouyou reddens considerably, shutting his eyes tightly, flinching again when Tobio’s mouth returns to the same spot and bites, causing a low groan to escape. 

“ _Please_ , Tobio, ngh—“ he squirms beneath the larger man, latching onto his waistband and pulling on it insistently with his one good hand. Tobio snickers, sitting up on his knees to remove his pants as painstaking slow as he could muster. Shouyou whines as he watches on, boxers tented, tracing with his eyes the smooth planes of Tobio’s near-perfect body. 

“God, you look _so good_ like that, Shou, fuck.” Tobio licks along his lip, staring right down at Shouyou like a hunter eyeing its prey. Shouyou’s voice pitches up, hips jumping, and he looks pointedly onto his balcony, lit by the half moon and city lights. He bites his lower lip when he feels Tobio’s precense over him, though he restrains himself from emitting another embarrassing noise when Tobio straddles him, hands possessive on his waist. He loses all semblance of control when a hot tongue contacts his chest, licking over one of the peaks until it was taken into an even hotter mouth, one noise after another erupting from Shouyou’s throat. The coolness of the metal piercing in contrast to the heat of Tobio’s mouth has him seeing stars. 

“ _Tah_ , _ah,_ Tobio— please,” he begs, hips stuttering upwards for something, anything to relieve the growing tension in his stomach. Tobio barks a low laugh, making no move to stop and instead takes a hand to reach for Shouyou’s other nipple, teasing it between two of his fingers until the redhead is positively writhing beneath him, breaths coming quick and ragged. “ _Ah, Tobio!_ ” He calls, gripping tightly onto the hair on top of Tobio’s head, yanking him up and away for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Tobio moans into it, weaving his hands down into Shouyou’s hips, then further until he was fidgeting with the hem of Shouyou’s too-tight boxers. 

“You want this?” He asks in a tone so low the sound reverberates through both their chests. Shouyou keens, 

“ _Please_ , God, _yes_ ,” and who was Tobio to deny such a good boy? Careful as he were, he shimmies down so his face was level with Shouyou’s thighs, grazing his hands down the fabric until it had slid all the way down, admiring the view that now sat before him. Shouyou’s face is shielded by his hand, but it was neither his face nor his chest that enraptured Tobio in that moment, rather the length before him, flushed a deep pink and leaking obscenely from the head. Knowing that Tobio is the one causing it, the one that had the beautiful man’s cock stood attentive before him, made him that much more desirable and _so much_ hotter. A hand palms at himself through his own underwear, so he tears them off swiftly, thumbing over his tip with a free hand. Shouyou whimpers above him, eyes gazing on with flooded pupils and mouth left slightly agape. 

“Tobio,” he groans, needy, raising his hips only to have them pressed back down by a controlling hand. Tobio chuckles mischievously and kisses up the length of Shouyou’s dick, only hesitating to keep Shouyou still, humming appreciatively at the size as he went. 

“God, I wanted to punch Oikawa so hard in his bitchass face when he had his hands on you, _fuck_ ,” Tobio mouths against the flesh, his sighs mingling with a groan that Shouyou responds with. 

Some rattling from the head of the bed makes Tobio raise his eyes, spying Shouyou slicking up his fingers with lube, following the hand as it disappears behind Shouyou. He flinches and gasps, causing Tobio’s cock to twitch again, small mewls of pleasure spilling from Shouyou’s lips effortlessly. Tobio forgoes his ministrations, tilting Shouyou’s head back to kiss him with a steady pace that matches the pace Shouyou had set. Their tongues intertwine, noises of exclamation echoing between their mouths. Tobio lets a hand wander, taking Shouyou’s from behind his back and placing it, still dripping, on himself. In the same instant the two stop breathing, stuck like this was their very first time being intimate with anyone. 

“Please,” whispers Shouyou, spreading his thighs open as he began to work along Tobio’s shaft. The raven-haired man makes a choked off noise and nods thoughtlessly, mouth taking once again to Shouyou’s while he planted two firm hands on the hips beneath him. He mouths wordless praise onto Shouyou’s scarred skin, lining himself up between the smaller man’s legs until his tip was touching a twitching rim. Shouyou’s hand releases him ( _damn_ ) and takes to himself, stroking haphazardly. 

“Ready?” He has the sense to ask, and no sooner was he given a go-ahead then he had himself half-seated inside of Shouyou, whose back arched clean off the bed as a loud moan echoed through the room. Tobio clenches his teeth harshly to keep himself from moving just yet, anchoring his fists on Shouyou’s smooth, barely-there love handles. 

“ _Mm_!” Shouyou whines, writhing on Tobio, pressing forward onto him until he reached his hilt. 

“Shou— fuck.” Shouyou clenched, and through his stupor managed to just barely get his legs around Tobio’s waist, rutting pathetically against him. Pre-cum leaked down his shaft and onto his stomach as he shifted weakly back and forth, bored of waiting and wishing Tobio would just _get on with it_. Just as the notion passed his brain, Tobio slid out and pressed slowly back in, having Shouyou’s eyes go unfocused when he repeated the motion, once, twice, several times more, each time upping the pace until he had the bed rocking back and forth as he pounded into Shouyou. As the larger repeatedly slammed into him, hitting just right with every jerk of his hips, Shouyou felt his stomach tighten like a cord wound around a spool, brain swimming as he could think of was the intense pleasure weaving through him from his head to the tips of his toes like magma. Half-words and Tobio’s name spill, garbled, from Shouyou’s lips, growing less recognizable as their pace became impossibly faster, harder. Tobio groaned loud and unabashed, leaning over to kiss the tears from Shouyou’s face and steal the sound from his lips, hands all over the other. 

The wet noise of skin on skin filled the empty space between their thick moans, urging them forward as the tightness became too much for either to bear. 

“ _Tobio_ —“ 

“ _Shou, I_ —“ with one last thrust, Shouyou’s hand stilled on his cock, spurts of white coating his chest and stomach, followed quickly by Tobio when he pulled entirely out, coming in ropes that mingle on Shouyou’s chest. Several beats pass where the two ride out their orgasms, panting and keening and entirely spent, and Tobio merely rolls off to the side and, stickiness and all, kisses along Shouyou’s neck, careful to avoid his shoulder and his sling. Consequently, the sling would need replacing and it would be wise for Shouyou to shower again, but for the time being Tobio is far too content to suggest moving. Shouyou’s good hand reaches for his hair to ruffle it affectionately, sliding his hand down to cradle his chin just enough to pull him in for a much sweeter, slow kiss that pushed all their feeling into one action. Their tongues slot together and they can taste the sweat from their lips, but it doesn’t matter. Not to them.

“God, Shou. You’re so perfect.”

“Don’t say that,” he argues, but his tone isn’t angry, “We aren’t. But… you’re perfect for me, you know.”

“Isn’t it a bit too soon to say that?” Tobio reasons, sitting up to reach for tissues to towel them off with. As he begins to clean them up as best he could, Shouyou falls into a trance.

“No. I don’t think it’s too soon. They say trauma can bind people, right?” His eyes find Tobio’s, softened in the moonlight and endearing. 

“I don’t care,” Tobio admits with a laugh. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything right now.” Shouyou finds him then, pulling the sheets over them both and snuggling right up against Tobio, their hearts only now calming slightly. 

“I wouldn’t, either, Tobio… sweet dreams,” is what he leaves Tobio with, fitting his face in the crook of the other’s neck.

“Yeah. Sweet dreams.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They really need a break.

Shouyou stirs late the following morning, waking to find a pair of eyes staring right at him, and for a moment his mind fills with panic, likely outwardly displayed because when it begins to dissipate, there’s a calloused hand resting on his cheek. 

“Good morning,” says a deep, worn voice. The sound puts him at ease as he sinks halfway back into his pillow. He hums, blinking with one eye at the sight before him— Tobio bathed in golden morning sunshine streaming in from his balcony, the sheets hanging low and loose on his hip bones to leave his chiseled chest in plain view. Several small, black tattoos appear along his shimmering body that Shouyou hadn’t seen the night before, and he admires them briefly, a feeble attempt at ingraining the image in his mind. Shouyou hides the flush that rises to his cheeks beneath a pillowcase. “Did you sleep okay?” 

“Yes. Best sleep I’ve had in a month, really. And much nicer than that damned bench—“

“Don’t remind me. You’re not there anymore. Don’t relive it,” Tobio cuts him off, shuffling to encase Shouyou in a tight hold that the latter gladly melts into. 

“Hmm. How long have you been awake?” Shouyou wonders aloud, admiring the messy morning hair atop Tobio’s noggin.

“Not long. You were talking in your sleep about five minutes ago,” he chuckles lightly, peppering small kisses over Shouyou’s forehead. He giggles boyishly at it, cringing inwards when his shoulder begins to ache, and when he tries to sit up he is forced back down by a pain in his behind. 

“A-ah…” he whimpers, stuck in a debate of which pain was worse. Tobio wrinkles his nose, creasing his eyebrows in concern. 

“Last night was probably too much…”

“N-no!” Shouyou shouts, suddenly, “Er, I mean, no, last night was fantastic,” he mumbles the last part, embarrassment creeping up on him like a slow-burning flame. Tobio smiles fondly.

“You know that’s not what I meant, silly. First, I jailbreak you, and then… well, I just think you were too hopped up on adrenaline.” Laughter erupts from Shouyou’s throat at Tobio’s reluctance to admit the previous night’s endeavor, and it was adorable that he danced around the word _sex_ like a frightened schoolboy. Tobio fixes an accusatory glare on Shouyou, whose laughter only grew as a result, pain and all. 

“H-hey! At least pretend to be thankful!”

“I’m sorry! Tobio, you’re just so cute. Thank you. For saving me,” Shouyou leans in to kiss his lips, just quick. Tobio scoffs, crossing his arms as he himself sits up, the sheets abandoned. As he stands, back to the balcony and front facing Shouyou, the redhead lights up with color, entirely distracted by Tobio’s naked form, outlined thinly with a dandelion glow. Tobio spies him sneaking a peek, but makes no effort to hide himself.

“You’re very welcome,” he responds with a sly wink, stretching out. Worry was bound to seep into their calm morning, but for the time being they figured they were safe, and that it could be held off a short while longer. “We should clean up. And redress your wound.” Shouyou nods.

“Carry me?” Shouyou asks sheepishly, though his brave demeanor definitely wouldn’t do him any good in this much pain. His tolerance is only so high. Tobio obliges, and one assisted shower later the two are dressed in sweatpants (Shouyou lent an oversized pair he’d bought years ago to Tobio) preparing a small breakfast in the kitchen. Shouyou sits on the counter fiddling with the pan Tobio had cracked two eggs into while Tobio pours them both coffee. They take their plates out onto the living room balcony, watching the remainder of the sun’s trek into the cloudless sky, sitting in comfortable silence for a short while, the only noise the early traffic and distant boats in the harbor. The two sit across from one another, plates spread between them on the concrete flooring.

“Now that you’re out, what do you want to do with your life? Any aspirations?” Shouyou asks between sips of heavily-sugared coffee. Tobio finishes chewing, thinking as he does, and responds in kind.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’ll find something to do. With you, if you’d have me,” Tobio spoke each word with calculated precision, certain of some phrases and not of others. 

“Of course I’d have you. Don’t be stupid, Tobio, I owe you my life,” Shouyou sets a comforting hand on Tobio’s knee.

“I don’t think it’s healthy for you to justify me being around with that, Shou. I’m still a murderer.” Shouyou’s face contorts into something foul.

“And you think I’m not?” He was appalled.

“Wh— yeah. No way. You’re the _good guy_ ,” he counters. A tired sigh escapes Shouyou. 

“Even if _I_ wasn’t _also_ a criminal, I’d still want you around, Tobio. Beneath your Crow exterior, you’re just a human being, too. A very handsome, kind person,” he takes his last bite of egg with finality that makes Tobio blink stupidly at him. 

“You barely know me!”

“Not true. I spent two weeks with _only_ you. You certainly treated me well for being a captive…”

“But that’s different!”

“It’s not.” A harrumph sounds off from Tobio, and Shouyou watches as he takes an angry sip of coffee. 

“Just accept that we’re both fucked up and move on. I mean, you liked me enough to be balls-deep in my ass last night—“

“ _Stopppp_ ,” Tobio interrupts, hiding his face in his hands. Shouyou laughs maniacally, taking a last swig of his coffee. He crawls one-armed across his balcony to seat himself between Tobio’s legs, his back to the other’s chest. 

“You can stay,” Shouyou remarks pointedly, “I want you to.”

“Shou, what am I gonna do with you?”

“Whatever you like,” the smaller man suggests, nuzzling into Tobio’s chest. Tobio makes a choked-off noise that sends Shouyou into another bout of laughter. The redhead takes the moment to stare out at the wide cityscape before then, up at some birds flying past the thirtieth floors of skyscrapers, and envied their freedom. “You know,” he starts, eyes glazing over, “I think it would be lovely to retire to the countryside. My Mom and my sister, Natsu, they live out in Miyagi. There’s mountains and woods as far as you can see, and if you go out far enough there are rice plantations and farmhouses and little villages. I think… I think that once I’ve sorted out my life in Yokohama, I’d like to go back home.” Tobio sits in stunned silence for a good minute before giving his two cents.

“That does sound lovely. Could I join you?” Shouyou nods against his chest, listening intently as he continues, “Just us in a small villa just out of town. Private, woodsy, plenty of space and no city noise, no guns at our throats… that sounds like a dream come true.” He leans forward and tilts Shouyou’s face sideways to plant a lazy kiss near his mouth, earning a soft sigh from Shouyou, who tries and fails to catch his lips as he pulls away. 

“A dream… huh?” 

“Yeah,” Tobio feels himself drifting along the shores of contentment, entangling his future with Shouyou, a farmhouse, no violence, and a place where they could forget their pasts— recover, together. Readjust to a normal life with people who cared about them. He wonders if, under different conditions he might cry at the thought. Maybe once he’s forgotten about all that from his childhood, he could do so more often, more appropriately. “I promise, Shou, that I’ll make it happen. We can leave Yokohama, start a new life with Natsu, and your mom…” It sounded crazy coming from him, but a glimpse of a calm, loving future felt so within reach as long as Shouyou was there to keep them steady. 

“You promise, Tobio? You can’t break a promise, you know.”

“I do. I promise,” he kisses Shouyou’s neck, wrapping his elbows beneath Shouyou’s arms in a loving embrace. Neither moves for a while, instead basking in the morning sunlight, utterly enchanted by the other. 

A breeze blows past, chilling them enough to usher them inside, and it’s then that Shouyou catches his eyes on Tobio’s stud earring, his syndicate trademark.

“Hold still,” he says, reaching up to unclasp it and take it in his hand, analyzing it. Tobio watches him, slipping a hand underneath Shouyou’s shirt to graze along his lower back. 

“Pitch it. That’s someone I’m not going to be anymore. The syndicate won’t have me, not unless they kill me first,” the earring disappears under Shouyou’s closed fist, and he reopens the sliding glass door to his balcony, throwing the earring over the railing with all the strength he could muster. Tobio watches it careen over the railing for as long as he can, a feeling of ease washing over him. Shouyou shuts the door with a dusting of his hands, suddenly reeling on Tobio. 

“Your tongue?” He turns to Tobio, puppy eyes of question. 

“Haha, no. That one’s just for _fun_ ,” he states, sticking out his tongue for emphasis. Gauging Shouyou’s enthusiastic grin, Tobio decides maybe he’s too happy to know that it was staying. “You like it, huh? That’s good.”

“I want to kiss you again,” Shouyou blurts, immediately clamping a hand down over his mouth. 

“Oh?” Tobio’s breath hitches, and his body reacts before his mind does, bearing down on Shouyou until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he falls into a sitting position. Tobio crawls just over him, expression softening into something unreadable as he took Shouyou’s lips slowly to his own with a guiding hand on his chin. This kiss isn’t like their other ones— it lacks that certain kind of lust-fueled passion, and instead in its place was affection, pure and unadulterated. There’s no insistence, or urgency, or some kind of manic rush to fulfill something greater; simply the two are together, sharing a moment of peace with promise of a future where they aren’t so alone in the world. Shouyou traces over Tobio’s lips with his tongue, and is invited in to the other’s mouth, smoothing over his tongue and _that_ piercing again. Oh, how it was a source of fascination for the smaller man who felt it with everything he had. It seemed there wasn’t a thing about Tobio he could find to be upset over. 

They pull away, gasping for air, and Tobio feels like he’s shrinking under Shouyou’s gaze, overflowing with emotion.

“Shou?” His response is to kiss along the thin scars spread over Tobio’s cheeks and throat, humming against some and nibbling lightly on others.

“You… don’t mind, right?” He asks to be certain. Tobio shakes his head, breathing out softly and burying a hand behind Shouyou’s head, holding him still as he found his own sets of scars to kiss against. The action devolves into sweet cuddling, Tobio sliding off of Shouyou to lean with his head against the arm of the couch, Shouyou splayed out over him, nose to the Crow’s chest. Well, maybe he wasn’t a Crow anymore. Shouyou falls back to sleep on top of him with Tobio carding a hand through the fluffy top of his head and Tobio falls asleep not long after, still unimaginably drained, and dreams of a countryside cottage and waking to pancakes in the morning beside a bubbly redhead.


	10. Chapter 10

Several mornings later, Shouyou wakes with only one remaining ache and accepts it sheepishly, for the feeling was proof of last night’s misadventure. He sits up in bed and looks blearily out onto his balcony at a pair of finches that had made a nest on a small table, rubbing his eyes with his bad arm. Since getting stitched up, his healing process, though heavily aided by painkillers and antibiotics, had taken on a good route that left the wound pink with scar tissue, red with scabbing, and only sometimes leaking strange fluids. He turns his eyes away from the birds and over to Tobio, who lay with the sheets across his stomach and his arms sprawled over the pillows behind his head. Shouyou suppresses a snort which falls from open lips as a sharp inhale when he traces over heavy, purple marks scattered over Tobio’s chest. 

Silently he gets to his feet and stretches the stiffness from his muscles, tugging on a pair of shorts as he went into his kitchen and took from the cabinets a granola bar for breakfast. _Today’s the day_ , he thinks to himself, staring out at the cloudy sky with dismay while his Keurig heated up coffee. His friends and officers haven’t seen him in three weeks, and with each passing day he felt more and more regretful that he couldn’t yet guarantee them of his safety. But he’d be leaving to see them soon, he reminds himself, taking a wistful sip of overly-hot coffee. A few moments later, Tobio emerges from _their_ bedroom with a yawn, sneaking up behind Shouyou to take him in his arms. 

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, doting over Shouyou with his hands wherever they could reach.

“Good morning, Tobio,” he replies sweetly, sliding him a mug of coffee across the counter. 

“Are you ready for today?” He asks after his first sip. Shouyou shrugs. “It’s okay. I’ll be there, and they’ll understand.”

“Will they?”

“Probably…” Tobio answers honestly, pulling Shouyou into him and kissing the top of his head. 

“Tobio…” 

“I know. Just, have faith,” he assures him. The remainder of the morning goes smoothly as they go about their morning routines. They brush their teeth and comb through their hair after showering off the last of the previous night, settling into comfortable, concealing clothes. Shouyou hides his head in a tight-fitting beanie and shoves his hands into his pockets as they head out his door, down the hall, into the elevator, and— wow, Shouyou was _outside_ on the _sidewalk_. He glances left and right and sets his eyes on his agency building, spying Tsukishima and Yamaguchi returning from a joint patrol heading up the steps to the front doors. Tobio nudges his arm with his elbow, gesturing with a sideways nod that Shouyou should take his side as they walked.

“Come on,” he flashes a small grin his way before zipping up his leather jacket past his chin and continuing their short walk with his head down. By the time they reach the stairs Shouyou is trembling like a leaf, eyes near overflowing as they stand before the doors to a building he’s entered so many times. This time the only difference is that his files read his status as deceased. He rights himself after clenching a hand hard around Tobio’s bicep, pushing past the doors and into the foyer where little blonde Yachi greets the guests. 

“Hello! Yokohama extended police force, what can we do for you gentlemen today?” Her voice rings loud and honeyed through the small entryway, and Shouyou yanks off his hat and stares giddily at her.

“Hi, Yachi.” Her eyes go alight like a million fireflies and she all but jumps over the desk to take him into her arms, spreading her tiny fingers through his hair.

“Hinata, Hinata! _Hinata_!” She cries, her little flats making tip-tap noises as she jumps up and down. “Oh my goodness, we all thought— fuck, we thought you were— _Hinata_ you—“ Shouyou laughs a little bit, steeling her by her shoulders. 

“Can I speak to Chief?” She nods rapidly, hustling back behind the desk to make a short call before motioning for the two men to head back unquestioned. She’d barely even paid Tobio mind. Shouyou takes the walk through the linoleum hall in wide steps, stopping when he reaches Daichi’s office, where he can hear him talking to Atsumu and Suga through the frosted glass of the door. Tobio bumps his shoulder with Shouyou’s, reaching for the doorknob to push the door open. Three sets of eyes turn to Shouyou and all at once they widen; frozen in their tracks the three officers stand removed from their previous conversation. Shouyou steps in awkwardly, followed by Tobio who shuts the door and leans back against it. 

“Hi, Chief.”

“ _Hinata_ ,” he says mostly to himself, unbelieving. 

“Yeah…” Shouyou scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry for worrying you all—“

“Stop, for the love of god, stop,” Suga whines, rubbing his temples as he crosses his legs atop Daichi’s desk. Atsumu sits down on the opposite end, and Daichi falls into his desk chair with a stifled laugh.

“What is _happening_ right now?” Atsumu voices, staring at Shouyou like he was a piece of pottery in a museum. His gaze travels to Tobio, blinking and uncertain. “And who the _fuck_ is this guy?” Tobio waves, looking away as if embarrassed.

“Hold on, _hold on_ ,” Daichi starts, waving his hands aimlessly in front of him. “Hinata, where have you been?! The Clipped Crows, they— we could have sworn you’d have died!”

“Well, about that—“ 

“And then you waltz in, just as much alive, with some _stranger_ ,” Suga interrupts.

“Can I please just explain?” His superiors curb their questions at his demanding tone, effectively giving him the floor. “Alright, thank you. This, uh, is Kageyama Tobio—“ Several pistols are drawn at once, and Shouyou steps protectively in front of his lover, shielding him as best he could, “— _AND he saved my life!_ ” He yells the last part, panic-stricken. Suga’s face contorts in confusion. 

“ _What_?” Atsumu asks through gritted teeth. 

“Please, just lower your weapons! I can explain everything! Tobio is on _our side_!” 

“ _Tobio_?” Wonders Daichi. “Hinata, what the _fuck?_ ” 

“Please just hear me out.” And with some convincing they do. They hang on to every word, listening as Shouyou recounts everything from his abduction, to meeting Oikawa and his cronies, his jailing and how he and Tobio became friends and lovers (omitting some of the finer details), their narrow escape, and a reveal of his shoulder that proved he had done more than just kiss Tobio by the hickeys around the gunshot wound. By the end of his report he sank into Tobio’s arms, utterly exhausted by having to relive that whole experience again. Daichi sits contemplative and analytical, brows furrowed in thought and hands folded against his nose. 

“Alright,” he says, “alright, Hinata. Alright. So, we have someone here who knows how the syndicate works, and if this isn’t some ploy then it means we can shut it down, right?” He glances to Tobio, who for the first time since arriving in the small office, speaks, 

“Yes. I'll do everything in my power to assist you in shutting down the syndicate. All my intel, every one of my connections, I’ll offer them to you if it’ll help. I have no ulterior motives.” To emphasize his point, he kisses the top of Shouyou’s head affectionately, staring Daichi down from amidst Shouyou’s red curls. 

“Okay. Atsumu, gather everyone in the meeting room, and Suga— recall everyone on patrol and get the Chief of Yokohama PD on speed dial, we’ll have to get the general police involved eventually.”

“Sir,” say Atsumu and Suga at the same time, marching out of Daichi’s office. Daichi, though obviously tired, smiles at Shouyou.

“It’s good to have you back, Lieutenant. Sorry if today is a lot for you, we’ll keep the meeting brief so you can rest, and we’ll plan something as soon as we can.”

“Thanks, Chief. I’ll see you down the hall?” He nods, dismissing the two with a wave. They leave and head right down the hall another several paces into a much larger meeting room, settling into two seats at the far end of the two adjacent tables that sat about thirty individuals. There’s a whiteboard spanning an entire wall, and a projector behind the single seat at the opposite head of the table. Shouyou levels his eyes with Tobio’s, reading him as best he could.

“Sorry about them,” he offers.

“No, it’s understandable. It’s you that deserves an apology from them, especially considering it seems like you’ll be—“ he wasn’t able to finish his thought before a loud _thwack_ interrupted them, startling them into looking where the noise had come from. 

“ _Shouyou_!” Shouts someone Tobio doesn’t recognize in the slightest emerging from a door that had been slammed open; a small man with dyed blonde hair and catlike features. Shouyou’s eyes widen.

“Kenma!” He calls, a smile gracing his exhausted features as he waves. However, Kenma makes a mad dash for him and pulls him up into a very limb-y hug. Shouyou loses his footing briefly, falling awkwardly against Kenma, who looks near-crying, and makes a sort of distraught noise. Tobio stands with clenched fists, possessiveness seeping into his system, but the stranger— Kenma— releases Shouyou when he makes noises of complaint, pressing a hand over his shoulder. “Good to see you, too,” he murmurs softly, waving to more people as they walk in and approach him, some more enthusiastically than others. (Kenma, as it turns out, is somewhat of a best friend to Shouyou.) Tobio learns their names as Shouyou greets them: Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, Kuroo, Ennoshita, Kiyoko, Daichi, Suga, Atsumu, Asahi… along with several other officers Shouyou greets, but not by name. Each give Shouyou a hearty welcome, but the same cannot be said for Tobio, who earns worried glances or troubled glares from some. 

“Alright, is that everyone?” Daichi asks after the majority of the seats were filled. “Yes? Okay, so—“ Both Shouyou and Tobio don’t listen too closely to what Daichi repeats to the rest of the officers of their previous conversation, instead squeezing each other’s hands beneath the conference table assuringly. “Are there any questions?” Daichi’s question is answered by several people speaking at once, followed by a silence and then raised hands. “A-ah…” he points to a blonde man in glasses who had his hand up, Tsukishima, Tobio recalls.

“So, how do we know that we can trust him again? Not that I won’t take the Lieutenant’s word for it, but…” he side-eyes Tobio from his seat. Shouyou sighs loudly. 

“I’ve never been so certain of anything in my entire life, for fuck’s sake. What do I have to do to prove it? Other than, you know, be alive because of him?” A few hands go down. Daichi reddens at the outburst and clears his throat.

“Okay any _logistical_ questions? We need to plan for an all-out ambush, we really only get one shot.” Asahi raises a hand and asks about their lookouts and recent patrols, to which Daichi delves deeper into an explanation about their routes, and with some help from Tobio shows how the Crows had deliberately timed their scouts opposite from the Extended Police Force’s. At this mention, Yamaguchi interrupts.

“Excuse me, and correct me if I’m wrong but… Kageyama, didn’t you scout during Hinata’s route? Tobio doesn’t make eye contact with Yamaguchi until Hinata rubs a hand against his arm, at which he explains in a soft voice.

“Yes, I was assigned him specifically. Our— I mean, _their_ systems are designed to be underground. The less trace the better. The old head of the Illegal Parts division didn’t like to listen and well… Shouyou gave him what-for and led to me gaining charge. I’ll iterate that I hated my job. Still not entirely certain how much a help I can be if I’m deployed,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“Thank you, Kageyama,” Daichi supplies, waving in some officers that had returned from patrol. Several hours of planning pass, where Tobio fills in cracks and goes into long explanations, even hacking through Tsukishima’s computer to access the syndicate cloud, drawing from it onto a projector schematics, secured files, chains of command, and anything else he could root around for using his classified passwords and firewall disarmaments. If he’d remembered his phone he’d be of more help, but it was back in syndicate territory, he thinks bitterly. By the time the vigilantes had their share of information, it was nearly dinner, and it seemed Shouyou was eager to leave. When they were dismissed he approached Chief, tugging anxiously at his sleeves.

“Daichi, Sir, thank you, again, but could I have an escort? I want to speak to an informant in my patrol district. He’s under the assumption I’m dead, and while there I could eat, and—“

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ , do you think Kei and Tadashi could—“

“ _Kei_ and _Tadashi_? You _are_ serious. Alright. I’ll talk to them. Use the company phone to call in, and then you can go. Just, please be careful. And retrieve your car while you’re out there, alright? At ease, Lieutenant. Report back tomorrow for a prep session, and shoot for at most a week launch.”

“Roger. Thank you, Chief.” They shared a handshake and Shouyou rushed out of the room, dragging Tobio behind him, beelining for the company phone in the comms room. He dialed a private number and after three rings a voice echoed through the speaker. Tobio stood to the side, watching in confusion, though also with earnest interest. 

“Takeda!” Shouyou shouts into the phone. 

“ _Hinata_?” Came the staticky reply. A deep exhale follows. “ _What? You—_ “

“I can explain soon! Can you clear the shop for—“ he glances at an analog clock on the wall, “six p.m.? I’ll be in with several officers—“

“ _Sure, yes, yes I can do that_ ,” there’s some yelling in a more countryside dialect of Japanese and then Takeda is back. “ _I’ll be ready for you. Back door I’m assuming?_ ”

“Yes, thank you,”

“ _Okay, alright. See you soon_.” _Click_. Tobio eyes Shouyou as the phone settles back into its place beside the keypad, pulling him close as they leave the room.

“Takeda?” He finds the courage to ask, as they search for Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. Shouyou nods. 

“When I was younger and less… _legal_ he gave me a place to stay and food on my plate. He didn’t approve but… he also knew how hard city life could be. I wouldn’t mind calling him ‘Dad.’” Tobio nods, kissing the side of his head. 

“I’m glad you’re seeing him again, but… he’s an informant?”

“He keeps tabs on syndicate movement in the lower districts. He was the last person I’d seen before Nishinoya and Tanaka abducted me. Those were their names… right?”

“Yes, yes those hooligans are bastards. Idiots,” Tobio spits. 

“Oi, settle down,” comes a voice from the opposite end of the hall. Tsukishima was leering at them. “Come on, let’s get this shit over with. The Crow needs to prove himself to me yet, so he’s sitting behind the cell of the car. That means you too, Lieutenant.

“Hey! That’s no way to speak to your superior!” Shouyou growls, indignant. “I could have been an ass and _ordered_ you to do this!” Yamaguchi steps between the fuming men, splaying his arms in front of them.

“ _Guys_ ,” he whines, but it’s more of a warning. Tobio steps up as well, a guarded smirk on his face that makes Shouyou worried.

“Tobio…” he says lowly as he steps up to Tsukishima, only a mere couple inches shorter, and a whole hell of a lot more intimidating. He leans in close to Tsukishima’s ear.

“Listen here, Glasses. I don’t give a fuck about where you keep me, but you’d better not give him shit after the hell he’s been through. And besides,” he pauses to let his smile reach his ears, dropping his voice an octave, “I know just how soundproofed the acrylic separators are. I don’t have shame like Shou does. Watch it.” He slides himself away, utterly gratified to see the heat rise to Tsukishima’s face, and the confusion pass over the other two officers. “Ready to go?” He asks, in an uncharacteristically chipper tone. Shouyou nods, still very much worried, but follows the group out of the headquarters nonetheless


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a month since I’ve updated but things are ramping up again. More updates to come! I promise this story will have a grand finish ;)

To say the least, the ride to Takeda’s small shop was awkward. Tsukishima kept his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel, and Yamaguchi kept eerily silent even though Shouyou could tell he was bursting at the seams to interrogate the obvious interest of the car. Regardless, Tobio slung his legs over Shouyou’s lap and stretched the span of the backseat, murmuring to him in the hopes of putting him at ease; he was tense. After a bit more wiggling on Shouyou’s part, Tobio craned his neck and leaned over, catching Shouyou’s eye. 

“You okay?” He whispers. Shouyou shrugs, nodding softly. Tobio pinched his lips into a line. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I’m here.” Shouyou glances up at him again, a small smile adorning his features. In the rearview mirror, Yamaguchi cracks a grin, and it seems like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, as if all his questions vanished into thin air. Several more minutes pass until the crew arrives at Takeda’s back door, where Shouyou’s police car is still parked, seemingly untouched. He runs his hand along the metal bracing below the windows as Yamaguchi and Tsukishima drive off with a salute in search of a less-conspicuous parking spot. In the mean time, Shouyou retrieves his keys from his spare key ring he had brought with him earlier in the morning, plucking the proper clicker key to unlock and clamber into the driver’s seat to wait for Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s return. Tobio makes sure the door is secure before jogging around to settle into the passenger seat. 

Beside him, Shouyou fidgets with his keys, eyes glancing up from his curtain of ginger hair to scan the exterior of the vehicle, all muscles in his neck and visible skin pulled that from stress. Tobio’s shoulders sink as he reaches tentatively to stroke along his lover’s arm protectively, brushing over the fabric of his coat in earnest, but unsure of how to quell the wave of anxiety flowing over the smaller man. 

“Shou, hey, talk to me,” he offers, pausing in his motions as he spoke. Shouyou flinches and looks up at him with wide eyes. 

“A-ah! Sorry, just… Tanaka and Noya—“ 

“They aren’t here, Shou. And if they were, Takeda said he was clearing his shop, right?” Shouyou bites his bottom lip, taking in a deep albeit shaky breath. His watchful eyes still as they fall on Tobio, and he puts on a brave face. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he affirms, leaning against his drivers seat until his hair hits the headrest. His moment of relief is spoiled when Tsukishima taps on the bulletproof glass of the window, signaling for them to go inside. Yamaguchi trails after him apologetically, making pleading motions with Tobio as he went. It almost gives Tobio a sense of pride. Almost. 

With one last kiss on the cheek, and a hand caught in orange locks, the four officers settle into a table towards the back of the small shop, and are joined shortly thereafter by Takeda himself, who approaches tentatively and seats himself between Shouyou and the edge of the table itself with a sigh. 

“Alright, everyone welcome… uh, can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?” All four officers shake their heads. “Okay… uhm, Hinata? Er, Lieutenant?” Shouyou nods, briefing Takeda on where he’s been, who Tobio is, and the whole shebang as he goes, keeping track of the way his fellow officers twitch when he mentions certain parts of his story. Afterwards, Takeda leans back in their wooden booth, looking pale. 

“Oh, oh dear.”

“Takeda?” It’s Tobio that speaks. 

“A-ah, so… a few days ago the syndicate dispatched their masses in search of a traitor and captive, but I couldn’t hold out hope that it was you, you know— s-so, all of the lower members investigated every shop in this district expecting your return and, needless to say… you’re both incredibly valuable. I wouldn’t doubt that they’re still searching…” The couple shares a worried glance with one another.

“And how do you—“ Tsukishima interjects, cut off immediately by Takeda again.

“How do I know? I’ve seen their earrings. The questions they ask are harmless enough at a glance. ‘Have you seen any suspicious figures? We’re filing a report to the YPD. Ever heard of this, that, or the other alias?’ It was all so much to handle at once. We didn’t spare them any information, by the way.” At this, Yamaguchi unclasps his hands from in front of his thinking face. 

“So, the best course of action is to storm them before they storm us. Race against the clock, if you will. I’m calling Chief,” he murmurs, excusing himself to make the phone call. 

“Seems so…” Takeda says wistfully, turning to face Tobio specifically. He leans in as if to whisper, cupping a hand around his mouth. “Kageyama, make sure _he_ stays alive. Please, keep him safe. It seems you’ll be having a rough time very soon…” 

Tobio squints down at Takeda, slouched in the form of an older gentleman worn from years of working his shop and lined with stress from Shouyou’s inevitable chaos; then, turning to Shouyou, radiant as ever despite his own nerves, and brimming with energy, whether nervous or excited. He gives Takeda his most convincing smile and whispers back, “Anything for him. And for you, his ‘father.’” Tears prick at Takeda’s eyes, but he continues on as Yamaguchi returns to his seat. Neither Tsukishima nor Shouyou question the exchange Tobio and Takeda shared, instead listening back to the intel Takeda relayed to them. It wasn’t much more than they already knew, but it told them that the syndicate was stretching its expendable members thin in the low districts of town. This gave the vigilantes the smallest edge once they recruited their defenses at the proper Yokohama Police Department. 

The officers took a small meal offered to each of them by Takeda, who insisted none of them pay, and they were sent off less than half an hour later to tend to their business. Their first order of business was to return Shouyou’s car to its parking space in the HQ lot, then report to Daichi, and lastly head home and rest for a debriefing and extensive planning the next morning at nine a.m.. So, at nearly ten the night prior, Shouyou and Tobio enter their apartment and collapse, exhausted, on the couch. Shouyou cries against Tobio’s shirt for a good while as Tobio threads his fingers through his hair to soothe him, only stopping when he fell fully asleep. In that moment, Tobio pledged to do his best to make sure Shouyou led the life Takeda and himself wished for him. And, when all of this was over, Tobio would get him the help he’d need for his mental damage, and make sure to stay by his side every step of the way.

The night ends with Tobio taking Shouyou in his arms and carrying him into bed, where the two promptly snuggle, even in their dirtied clothes, and neither dream about the coming day. Which, they might soon discover, won’t be nearly half as welcoming as the current day had been. 

* * *

The alarm that sounds the following morning falls to Shouyou on deaf ears, but Tobio smacks a hand over the off switch and sits up with a yawn.

“Oi,” he pokes at the smaller man, shoving lightly at his shoulder. “Come on, get up. Big day.”

“ _Mm_ —!” Is the disgruntled reply he gets in return. 

“Oh come on, I’ll make you… pancakes!” Tobio suggests, successfully getting Shouyou to his feet (at the very least). Shouyou emerges from their bedroom a good bit later, once two flapjacks were served on a plate before him.

“Tobio,” Shouyou murmurs, stabbing the edge of his pancakes with a fork, prodding the cakes, his mind evidently elsewhere. 

“Yeah, Shou?” The taller man asks, admiring the other’s bed head, though he expected that their morning was about to take a new, upsetting turn. 

“Do you think we can do this, really?”

“Do what?” Tobio asks, not entirely certain.

“The Clipped Crows. Do you really think a group of vigilantes and the Yokohama PD can shut down an entire syndicate? They’ve owned this city for _decades_ , Tobio,” he sticks his fork hard enough into his pancakes that the fork scrapes obnoxiously against the ceramic plate. The two cringe at the noise, and Shouyou’s brows soften. “Sorry,” he apologizes almost instantly. Tobio pouts, a pang of sympathy threading through him, and he abandons his place in front of the stove to pull Shouyou into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s legitimate concern. I… I think we can. Has there ever been insider information like this? There were leaks, right? But I’m… different, I think.” Shouyou looks up at him with big, round eyes, his bottom lip stuck out petulantly. 

“I’m worried, Tobio.”

“So am I,” Tobio admits truthfully, sighing, “but… I’m also hopeful. I think we can do this. Plus, I’ve got a fantastic partner to help through it, right?” Shouyou nods gently against his chest.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Breakfast passes quickly after that with the two offering each other comfort when they can, but the tension in the air is palpable. The clock in the kitchen reads a somber 8:30, so the two throw on civilian clothes that keep them hidden as they leave the apartment and take the stairs to the bottom floor. When the two hit the concrete of the sidewalks, they take the other’s hand and trudge hastily towards headquarters, only stopping when they reach the top of the steps at the front of the building. Shouyou swears under his breath and shakes himself off, jostling his oversized winter coat. Tobio holds tighter onto his hand as they enter and Yachi guides them to the meeting room where the rest of the officers have gathered and seated themselves. All eyes glide onto the lovers as they walk in and take seats beside Daichi and Suga.

“Lieutenant,” Daichi says, nodding to Shouyou, and then, “Kageyama,” to the man beside him. Tobio bows in his seat. 

“Alright,” Suga begins, getting to his feet before a projector and flipping the _on_ switch. “As everyone knows we’ve recently gotten an insider on the Clipped Crows, and with Sergeant Tsukishima’s assistance late last night we were able to access their blueprints for their building and some additional information on their…” Suga drawled on for a good while, and after a bit was when Shouyou realized why. The Chief of the Yokohama Police Department was seated just across the table from him. Suddenly his blood ran cold and his worry began to eat at him. _This could either go very well or very poorly._ Shouyou nudges Tobio meaningfully and gestures with a nod to the Chief, and the blood drains from Tobio’s face. So he understands, too. 

“I think that’s all the necessary information,” Suga takes a seat. “Lieutenant Hinata, I’ll hand it over to you.”

“Thank you, Deputy Chief.” Shouyou gets to his feet and stands before the projector, scanning over the blueprints and data displayed on the white screen behind him. “Good morning everyone. I’m very glad everyone was able to take the time to be here today. Chief Akaashi, we appreciate your time for this very pressing matter.” The chief gives him a curt bow and grunt of appreciation as he goes on. “As of last night we were able to gather more intel from a local informant I’ve known for many years. Not once has he ever been unreliable. According to him, the syndicate has its men pulled thin with the low-level cronies on the streets for patrols. Tob— _Kageyama_ and I are prime targets, and they want us both dead more than anything. Their thinned forces will give us an edge to storm their headquarters and arrest Oikawa Tooru without raising public suspicion or concern.” The Chief raises an eyebrow and casts an accusatory glance at Suga and Daichi, as if to say, _Oikawa Tooru? The syndicate?_

“Chief,” addresses Tobio, getting to his feet to stand beside Shouyou, a nonchalant hand resting on his back. “I can assure you we mean nothing in keeping any information from you. There’s a lot to unpack here, so please give us time to explain things in depth. I promise it will make sense so long as you withhold your doubts for the time being.” The chief narrows his eyes at the ex-Crow, but waves a hand that lets Daichi and Suga breathe. 

“Go on then. Let’s hear it. From both of you. Let’s get on with it so we can shut down these pests for good,” a fist hits the table that makes the vigilantes flinch, but the eager grin now stuck on Akaashi’s face overwhelms it.

“As you wish.” The two take center stage in explaining the syndicate’s programs; their levels of power. Tobio gives a brief explanation of his past, and his relationships with his fellow division heads. He gave them all by name, elaborating about their strengths and accentuating their weaknesses as well as he could. Further in depth, he recounts using the blueprints projected behind them about the building the syndicate ran in: Oikawa’s business skyscraper, though above the fifth floor was just a standard office building with civilians. This, they find, complicates things, and it seemed there’d have to be a city mandate to not work on that day. They’d think of something, Akaashi assures the vigilantes, who being criminals themselves seemed doubtful. Tobio went on with his speech for another ten minutes, and Shouyou had to admit he was jealous that he had stepped up and was acting so calm (even though the hand in his was shaking). The meeting prolongs nonetheless, and eventually Shouyou and Tobio are seated and replaced by Atsumu, Daichi, and Suga, who begin to properly organize a game plan. 

“Within this coming week, we should prepare to launch an assault on their HQ. If their lesser numbers are already divided, we might be able to get in without much trouble,” says Suga, gesturing with his hands. Atsumu types away on the computer connected to the projector and pulls up the blueprints, circling with the highlight tool all the entries and exits. 

“We can send in our Captains and Lieutenants with a division of the YPD and some of our trained officers,” Daichi suggests, looking to Atsumu, who draws some more over the diagrams. 

“I think that’d do fine,” Akaashi nods. Atsumu looks up from his scribbling for a moment, catching eyes with Shouyou.

“Lieutenant, will you be in a well enough condition to lead a force?” Shouyou looks down at his hands, rotating his shoulders in their sockets. Only minor pain.

“Yes, Captain. Thank you, sir.” Daichi smiles at him warmly, a certain pride flooding through his face. 

“At ease, Lieutenant,” he goes on, “okay. Let’s devise an objective and work on routes of invasion from there. Tobio, where would we find the top dogs?” Tobio clears his throat, standing from his seat.

“Well, there’s no guarantee that they’ll be stationed from HQ that day, but if anything you’d find them on Oikawa’s coattails. Oikawa will either be in his corporate office or his Crow office.” Tobio stops dead in his tracks. “This mission will double in possible success if we were to launch our forces at dusk. That also raises the chances of him being in his syndicate office.” The three at the front of the room nod.

“Okay, Kenma, Tsukishima, Kuroo, can we rely on you three for recon and insider? We’ll need somebody on the cameras and ensuring the safety of those deployed. Sergeant, we’ll need your hacking on point for this.”

“You can count on me, Deputy Chief,” Tsukishima salutes, then smiles to Kenma and Kuroo. “Well, you guys in?” The others nod. 

“Seems we’re almost set then. If I could address the Captains and Lieutenants outside for a moment, please.” Daichi steps down to let Suga continue planning, but lures four officers out of the room. Captain Asahi, Captain Atsumu, Lieutenant Hinata, and Lieutenant Ennoshita all gather in the hallway haphazardly, shuffling on the balls of their feet. Daichi addresses them first with a sigh. 

“Listen you four, this is probably going to be the hardest and bloodiest mission we’ve enacted. I need to know that you will all be able to maintain composure through this. You’ll have men to lead, and this isn’t the first time, nor the last. Are you all understanding?” The four nod. “Alright. This is our only chance; the fact that Chief Akaashi is so willing to cooperate is because he knows this is our lucky break. Okay? Dismissed. Except Hinata, please stay for a moment.” The three shuffle back into the meeting room, where briefly Shouyou can hear Tobio speaking alongside Suga before the frosted door clicks shut behind his fellow vigilantes.

“Chief?” Asks Shouyou after a moment. 

“Lieutenant… _Shouyou_ , are you sure you’ll be able to do this?” Shouyou feels his insides crumble. He speaks his mind.

“No. I’m not sure. But I have to. If anybody has to, it’s _me_. I started this with something silly, and now I’m a liability. I’m responsible, and I want to do this for everyone in Yokohama plagued by the presence of the syndicate. Chief, I won’t let you down.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And your arm?”

“It’ll be fine… although, Chief, what about Tobio? Is he— will he—“ Daichi takes a firm hold on Shouyou’s good shoulder before he could stray too far. 

“Listen, you can run the route parallel to the one Suga, him, and I will run with the top officers of the YPD. Does that give you piece of mind?” Shouyou thinks on it for a moment. _Run a parallel route. Tobio will be with Daichi and Suga. Tobio can fend for himself anyway._

“Yes, it does. We’ll have all the necessary equipment—“

“Shouyou, let’s get back to the meeting. Everything can be explained more in depth.” Shouyou nods, but nonetheless his throat closes up. For the remainder of their meeting he holds tight to Tobio’s hand, and only speaks again when called upon. 

* * *

In the end, their plan of action includes an all-entrance storm of the facility with ten or so men per division, followed by the standard officers of the YPD to cover their backs. In total, Tobio estimated there were approximately seven hundred active syndicate workers and criminals, which was a daunting number compared to the just less than 200 “good guys.” That said, the cops were given direct orders to shoot on site anyone that engaged them. Although the YPD wasn’t meant to follow orders to kill, this would have to be an exception. 

Following their initial invasion, they would convene on the rooms they suspected Oikawa and his second in commands would be found. Kuroo, Kenma, and Tsukishima were charged with surveillance and last recon, as well as keeping track of their officers through GPS in the vests of the high-ranking officers. It seemed fairly enough like a solid plan, to be enacted the following day starting at 6 pm. Akaashi made the necessary phone calls and paged the mayor of Yokohama for the temporary corporate shutdown the officers needed to perform their invasion. Shouyou knew it wasn’t foolproof, but it was their best shot, and since they were instructed to kill anyone who engaged them, and injure the leaders for capture, Shouyou felt the familiar anticipation from his time with Takeda rolling to the surface. _This’ll be fun_ , Shouyou thinks, turning to Tobio on their way home. 

“Well, Tobio?”

“Hm?” The larger man looks down at him, reading his expression. Anxiousness mixed with excitement. He scoffs.

“Hah. Yeah, I’m ready for this to be over, too,” he plants a soft kiss on Shouyou’s brow, glancing to the cloudy sky until even the moon vanishes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. In advance.

“ _Tobiooo_ , we _can’t_ ,” Shouyou whines, pressing his hands over Tobio’s face. The larger man swipes his tongue over the palm of Shouyou’s hand in defiance, reaching for him once his arms retracted. “Ugh, that’s _so_ gross,” he grimaces, using his legs to propel Tobio over the edge of the couch and onto the floor. He lands with a grunt and then rolls to his feet, staring accusingly over the arm of the sofa at a now-cross-legged Shouyou. 

“You’re the worst.”

“Am not,” Shouyou fires back, raising an eyebrow. Tobio rolls his blue eyes.

“Yeah, okay. You’re… not _the worst_. Just… close to it.” Shouyou narrows his gaze but gives up after only a moment, flopping onto his back.

“Y’know Tobio, I’m only saying we can’t because I have a squad to run tonight,” says Shouyou, though he’s certain that his words don’t quite reach his lover. The ceiling light flickers above him. 

“Can I at least give you kisses?” Pouts the taller man, getting to his feet. Grudgingly, Shouyou gives a small nod, and that’s plenty enough for Tobio when he leans down to pepper kisses over an exposed collar and face. Shouyou makes a fuss over it, naturally, and pushes him off lightly. “Hey! But, you have to be ready by four! I want to spar in HQ before we leave for the mission!” Tobio pauses, nods, and goes right back to giving kisses. He revels in the feeling of fondness the affectionate actions cause to flower from his chest. For a moment he forgets how little he got to love in his childhood, and just _feels_ for Shouyou, utterly captivated. 

“Shou, I care about you so much,” he murmurs between chaste kisses. Shouyou laughs. 

“Aww, I care about you too, Tobio.” Shouyou ruffles the short black hair atop Tobio’s head, grinning wildly up at Tobio. 

But as it goes their quality time was cut short by duties; four p.m. came swiftly to them as they rummaged for their things in preparation for the night. Shouyou gathered his bulletproof vest from his closet, his reconnaissance uniform (patterned with blue and grey camouflage), and his finest work boots. Tobio was promised a set by Daichi, so he just grabbed his pistol and knife from the dresser as they left. Shoved into heavy jackets to hide his attire, Shouyou takes long strides on his way to the station, shuffling in right past Yachi and into the armory. There, they found Suga waiting, polishing the nose of an American Barrett M82 rifle. Shouyou drops his gaze along the neck of the weapon.

“Since when did we hire snipers?” Suga snaps up to stare Shouyou down. 

“We don’t, but I got bored waiting on everyone so I figured I might tidy up.”

“Deputy Chief, we’re two hours early,” Shouyou points out. The Deputy waves it off. 

“I also figured we’d have some early birds. Looks like I was right,” he remarks. Shouyou hums a noise of acknowledgment. 

“Can we grab some ammo and one of my pistols? My other was… confiscated. Tobio needs a vest, too.”

“Sure thing. Help yourselves to anything we’ve got. The YPD is supplying gov-grade weapons they managed to snag as well— for our force actually.”

“ _Uwahhhh_ that’s so exciting!” Shouyou’s eyes really glimmer, and Tobio can’t help but grin.

“Come on Shou, you said you wanted to spar right? Let’s get on with it.” So, wordlessly but happily the two scour the walk-in-closet-esque for a set of gear for Tobio, along with Shouyou’s missing parts. The two bid Suga farewell for the time being and head downstairs into the rec room, where the two patch up and get into the boxing ring. They wrestle in earnest for a good half hour, not wanting to overdo it, and determine that Shouyou’s shoulder is well enough after all for their mission, though it’ll no doubt need later restoration. 

When they emerge at the top of the staircase, slightly sweaty and flushed, they get a few questioning stares from Shouyou’s friends, who were amidst a final debriefing with Chief. Daichi addresses Shouyou next, carefully explaining to him the finer details of his mission and who he’d be running with. As it went, Shouyou would work with Yamaguchi and some of their since-trained newbies with intel communication with Kenma, who was going to be primarily in Group 1 & 2’s earpieces. This meant Shouyou had near-direct connection to Daichi’s group, including Tobio. This eased him, though he was still anxious about working with the YPD. 

Gradually, six p.m. nears, and Daichi, having prepped everyone and organized as best he could, announced their departure for downtown Yokohama. Each group shuffled into cars and met up with their team prior to dispatch, until only Group 1 & 2 remained in the lot. Shouyou and Tobio stood a car’s length away from one another in an empty parking space, staring.

“Tobio?” He murmurs some noise of question in reply. “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?”

“Yeah, you will,” he grins happily, cocking his pistol’s shaft before opening the car door and taking a step into the backseat.

“Tobio! Be safe! I know you’re strong!” Tobio merely winks back at Shouyou before hopping into the car and peeling off onto the bustling roads. Shouyou is close behind him, his fingers locked on the wheel despite Kenma’s voice in his ear begging him to slow down before he crashes. Yamaguchi picks up on some small talk with the other officers, who smile worriedly back at him from the backseat. 

“Lieutenant?” Asks one. Shouyou glances back at him in the rearview as he plows through traffic. “Uh, not that I doubt your leadership but, you can do this right?” Shouyou relaxes his posture and loosens his grip on the steering wheel. He barks out a laugh that Yamaguchi snorts at. 

“Kid, I’ve been in this business for more than fifteen years. I know how to lead a squad. You worried?”

“I mean— yeah! I am. This is our first like… mission, and it’s so important.” Shouyou’s brain grabs for the right thing to say. In his more professional state, it was necessary for his own issues to be swallowed down. 

“Kid, listen, this mission is going to be a breeze. You’ve got me leading you, right?”

“Lieutenant, that’s not going to reassure them,” Yamaguchi snickers. Shouyou gapes accusingly at him.

“Tadashi, I’m hurt!” He laughs good-naturedly, then returns his attention to his group as he rounds the corner of a green light. “Listen, I’m a Lieutenant, right? This position wasn’t just handed to me. I proved my worth and I’ve fought off worse than this when I was still a teenager. You’ve all done something to land yourselves in the Extended Force. I guarantee you my hands are ten times as bloody as all three of you combined.” The only girl in their active forces looks Shouyou in the eyes in the rearview. 

“Lieutenant I— hmph, we’ll make you proud. Just… please, keep us alive,” she hopes. Shouyou’s heart swells. 

“Your worry is acknowledged, officer.” In her doe eyes, Shouyou sees flickers of his sister, and suddenly this mission’s success was doubly crucial. There was more on the table than at a glance, he realizes. For Tobio, for Mom, for Natsu, this had to work. His lesser officers had lives, too. People who cared about them whether they knew it or not. “You have my word that I’ll do everything in my power to keep us five alive. The YPD en route with us I can’t promise, but at least to you guys.” The three in the backseat readjust their posture and put on brave faces even though the one seemed on the verge of tears. Shouyou is moved to smile, dimming his nerves.

However, when Shouyou looks up again, at the road instead of the backseat, Oikawa’s skyscraper looms before them. The steel beams shine a dusky orange from the ambient streetlights, and the warped reflections of the hundreds of windows display a dim and filthy Yokohama. As they pass the bottom floor and turn to park across the parking garage, the reflection of their car seems to laugh at them as it bends to match the scratches and dips in the glass. It’s far more intimidating on approach than it had been when he and Tobio had been fleeing from its lower floors. The parking garage sat in flourescence, teasing his less-than-pleasant memories. The street lamps cast a horrible array of streaky light on the road that made Shouyou squint in anger. 

He pulls over moments later, silently thanking his Chief for giving them their blue-grey camouflage outfits that match the city background. Metallic noises of steel-toed boots hitting the ground echo around them as they disembark the vehicle, hearing word from Kenma that they were good to go; the YPD officers would be following them up shortly. In addition, Kenma assures them that Chief Daichi’s group has begun their invasion.

“Alright,” Shouyou addresses everyone, crouching low and speaking as soft as he could manage. “Everyone knows the basic plan, you’ve all been trained with codes and signals, right?” All of them nod. “Then just follow my lead. Keep your weapons drawn, shoot on sight. If killing is inevitable, don’t hesitate. Your life is more important than theirs.” He claps one of his officers on the shoulder. “On your feet,” and then into his earpiece, “Kenma, southwest fire exit.” A lock clicks a few feet away, and five officers clamber through the doorway and into a vast hall. Their steps clink against steel-paneled flooring as they rush forward, spying security cameras going down as they make their way through the hall. Gradually the steel gives way to linoleum under cheap carpet that peeled up at the edges to reveal the stained plastic sub-flooring.

Shouyou stops them at a fork in their way, glancing down at the small GPS on his wrist, and with guidance from Kenma’s group, the blip on the radar directs their team to the right. Shouyou waves them forward, flinching when from their left, the residual sound of gunshots reverberate through the walls. 

“ _Group one engaged in combat. Awaiting results. All groups continue on current path. YPD dispatched,_ ” Tskushima informs through their earpieces. Shouyou keeps himself steady and plows on, gradually more footsteps sounding around them. Suddenly, several armed lackeys appear from a stairwell ahead of them. Shouyou throws open an office door that blocks the first round of bullets, pushing his three newbies behind it. The three duck for cover while Shouyou and Yamaguchi fire from around the edge of the wooden frame, attempting to see through the wood chips tossed into the fray from bullets. 

“ _Hey!_ You three! ON YOUR FEET.” Shouyou orders, yanking the largest of them up. He was a foot taller than Shouyou, and startled that he’d been hefted so easily off the ground. More bullets pelt the door, the wood splintering under the sheer impact; it wouldn’t last much longer. Shouyou curses under his breath, and he and Yamaguchi share a moment of clarity where their eyes lock and they seem to remember one of their first missions. He and Yamaguchi had been cornered by a group of adrenaline junkies high off their shit from illegally-distributed, spiked blunts. They had been trying to track down the seller, who was supposedly a Clipped Crow, but had their hands forced by the confrontation of the armed junkies. 

Together, the two slam what remains of the door into the wall and fire several shots ahead of them, swerving around the obvious shots as they went, drawing their close-quarters gear from their equipment belts. Shouyou slices clean across one of their throats when they reach point blank, following it up by impaling another in the side of the skull. Blood splatters on his and Yamaguchi’s outfits, leaking onto the floor beneath their feet. The two spit in near-synchrony, looking at the group of dead and dying men at their feet.

“Come on,” Shouyou calls to the rest of his group through the din of gunshots on all sides, peering at them through the settling plaster and smoke. “ _Come on!_ ” He demands again, tone strict. Yamaguchi chokes down a laugh, knowing there’d be a stern talking to after this should they make it out like they were promised. 

The newbies scramble to them then, stepping over the bodies and trailing sickly red footprints as they marched onward. Through the haze of adrenaline, Shouyou feels his shoulder twinge, and his side felt faintly achy. A hole had been blasted into his front upon closer inspection, no doubt bruising his abdomen through his vest. His fellow officers seem unharmed.  
They begin their ascent up the stairwell, following closely to the blip on Shouyou’s GPS and exit the next floor’s doorway with their guns reloaded and aimed at head height. When they throw the door open, twice the men as before greet them, but are met with equal force in a hail of bullets that take down a third of them. The girl in Shouyou’s group hisses as she’s hit in the thigh, but growls in defiance and instead fires a shot between the eyes of an opposing cronie. A rush of pride weaves through Shouyou as he kicks off of the wall to his right, dodging past bullet shrapnel as he rolls into the room opposite the stairwell where papers were fluttering and the walls trembling from countless impacts. Shouyou seizes the opportunity, ditching the empty magazine of his pistol and reloading, peering around the corner of the doorway and firing into the chests of two men, and at last it seems that they’ve been bested. 

Another large hole bore through the front of Shouyou’s uniform where a bullet had impacted his vest, and he realized with a start his ribs were definitely bruised this time and his breathing staggered. He heaves a great breath.

“Well done, let’s get a move on,” Shouyou urges after checking up on his division. More footsteps were following up the stairwell, the YPD, and they had plenty more ground to clear yet. The five officers collect themselves and sprint up ahead, sticking to their directions until they come to an open room littered in fragmented objects of all sorts. Trashed lampshades and broken chandelier prongs, torn carpet and bloodied curtains; Shouyou wonders fleetingly who won the fight that had so obviously been fought. 

“ _Group two, do you copy? Group one in pursuit of target number one. Follow their lead._ ” A second, white blip, a stark contrast to their red one, appears on their navigation devices and the group heads out once again, trailing along group 1’s destructive path. It only crosses Shouyou’s mind as the remnants of scuffles begin to clear that, oh shit, Tobio and Daichi are in pursuit of Oikawa. _Shit!_ He shakes his head violently, urging the thoughts away as he leads his officers deeper yet into the facility, where the thick stomping of military-grade boots shakes the ceiling and bullets firing off rattle the few dark window sills. _Daichi and Tobio have this_ —

“ _Dispatching medics now. Rendezvous at extraction points for extreme injury_ ,” murmurs a concentrated Kuroo into Shouyou’s ear as several small _X_ s appear on his wrist all across the building’s blueprints. Shouyou curses under his breath, urging his feet to propel him quicker— they had to help pursue Oikawa. It was _necessary_. 

“ _Lieutenant Hinata, shortcut on your left_ ,” says Kenma sharply, and Shouyou swerves, giving Kenma a mental thanks for monitoring him. His fellow officers struggle to match his sudden change of direction and stumble for a moment before catching up. _Footsteps ahead_. He brings his sprint down to a sneak and splays his arm out to stop his group, placing a careful finger on the trigger of his pistol as he raises it to shoulder-height. He listens to the footsteps a moment longer before someone speaks.

“Fuck! Where did he go? Bastard!” _Daichi_.

“Chief!” Calls Shouyou, rushing his way past hallways until he finds one with Group 1 huddled at the end of one hallway, Suga pacing worriedly back and forth. 

“ _Hinata!_ ” Says Suga, exhaling deeply. “Alright, Lieutenant—“

“ _Target one located. Coordinates to closest Groups pending_ ,” comes Kenma’s voice. Daichi, Suga, and Shouyou all get pings, and wordlessly the two groups break out towards the new blip on their radars. Shouyou barely has the chance to scan Group one for Tobio, who stands bent over facing the ground, instead keeping his mind on track for the mission; he can’t be distracted. Per orders from Kenma, the groups break off again at a cross section of hallways, aiming to corner Oikawa with few escape routes. The din around them, muffled by heartbeats and labored breathing, fills the facility with metallic dinks and explosive _boom_ s. Iron wafts through the air from a mix of blood and ammo which littered the floor at intersections and stained the walls red. Still, Shouyou and his officers pressed on, anticipation flooding his system. _Finally, finally this will all be over!_

“Shit!” Calls Yamaguchi, slumping into a wall. Four heads turn at once, and Shouyou has half a mind to fire when his body turns. His bullet lodges into someone’s shoulder, and many more gunshots fire off. Down the hall, bodies drop to the floor, and one of Shouyou’s men takes a knee. _Yamaguchi, Lev!_ His mind whirs desperately. He kneels before Lev, the tallest of his men. 

“Talk to me,” he urges. 

“I’m— I’m fine,” he insists. Shouyou looks him over. It’s true, he’s fine and nothing was fatal, so he turns to Yamaguchi, who huffs, blood tracing down from his skull. 

“Yama—“

“They clipped me, it didn’t penetrate. Just a nick, but I’m losing blood too fast.” Shouyou tries to think, but his training kicks in before his brain really can.

“I made a promise,” he starts, “Lev, escort yourself and Yamaguchi to an extraction zone. Meet up with the YPD. Get medics. You two—“ he addresses his other newbies, “come with me.” His orders leave no room for argument, so he gets to his feet and takes off again. “ _Now_!” Everyone clambers after him, and taking one look behind him, Shouyou smiles and salutes Yamaguchi, who smiles back through the curtain of blood caked to the left half of his face. Nonetheless, their new group of three plods on, nearing closer and closer to their objective. 

Weapons drawn, they clear the final doorway and jump down flights of stairs all at once, bracing themselves on the numbness brought by adrenaline. Then, silence. At the base of the final set of stairs stands Daichi, Suga, and the remainder of their group, pistols primed and knives drawn, facing the figure standing on the fourth step, hands raised. Bitterly, Shouyou recognizes Oikawa as the cornered man, hair mussed and eyes frantic. His suit and tie are in disarray, his shoes scuffed and layered in dirt and what seems like blood. 

“Well,” he tuts, to which clicking of safeties sound around him. “I certainly wasn’t anticipating _this_ today.”

“Cut the bullshit, Crow. You’re coming with us or you’re dead.”

“That so?” Daichi takes a step of warning towards Oikawa. 

“ _Cut. The. Shit_.” He grits out. Oikawa laughs, a high-pitched, stuttering sort of cackle that confuses the officers, and then he draws a gun and fires backwards, slipping from a window that had gone unnoticed behind him. All hell breaks loose as each officer struggles to grapple at the situation. 

“Fuck!” Curses Shouyou furiously, jumping to kick his way through the glass in pursuit. He was _this_ close, there was no turning back. Vaguely he recognizes the sound of crunching glass from behind him as his boots make contact with the grounds just outside of Oikawa’s headquarters. Ahead, Oikawa dodges into a shed-like building on his property. Shouyou forces himself to accelerate,

“Shou!” Calls an apparent pursuer. _Tobio_! He whips his head around for a split-second and spies him on his tail.

“Tobio! Come on!” He yells behind him. He turns back around and leaps over scraps, ducking into the shed, followed closely by his lover. Boxes line the walls, with an open space in the middle where Oikawa stands, facing away from them. 

“Damn, you’re persistent,” Oikawa notes, facing them with a glare. 

“Can it, already. Either you come with us, or…” Shouyou raises his gun. 

“Yeah? That can be arranged, you know. Just… Not for traitors.” Oikawa takes on a wild smirk, pulling his loaded gun from his coat, firing the same second that Shouyou shoots. Oikawa crumples seconds later, the impact of his body hitting the ground startling Shouyou from a solemn kind of stupor. Tobio grunts from behind Shouyou, crashing into boxes as he slides onto the ground. Shouyou’s mind reels, and then he isn’t thinking at all. He has half a mind to dial Kenma his emergency signal before he gets on his knees before Tobio. 

“Tobio, Tobio, hey come on,” Tobio keeps his eyes open a smidge, but gurgles and spits up blood as he rolls onto his side. “H-hey, stop messing around,” Shouyou murmurs, placing Tobio’s head in his lap, holding him against his own warmth. His hands shake, and for the first time since he began his line of work he feels a sense of loss. It’s like he can feel his heart fracturing one excruciating piece at a time. “Help! Somebody, anybody!” Shouyou looks around desperately for Kenma, but he knows it’s too soon for him to arrive. Tobio does his best to look Shouyou in the eye as he reaches up to brush tears from his face. 

“Shouyou, for as long as I’ve known you I’ve been the happiest man alive. I didn’t know what I was missing until you came along. You made me whole again,” Tobio whispers, voice barely audible. He coughs, closing his eyes as he lays down in the lap of his lover. 

“Tobio… don’t say that, please don’t—“

“It’s true, Shouyou,” he mumbles, breath hitching as he sputters again, laying his arm down over his chest where the bullet had taken its course. Shouyou lets out a heart wrenching sob, casting his eyes to the floor in fury. 

“Tobio, you promised! You said we’d go live in the country! You were going to meet my parents and we were going to stay together forever! Tobio, fucking— don’t leave me! You can’t!” A soft hand reaches weakly up to wipe a tear from his face, snapping him out of his blind rage. Tobio moves his mouth to speak and no words come out at first, and then just barely Shouyou can hear him. “Shou... it’s okay.” His eyes are shiny and leaking red-stained tears that fall onto the rough floor beneath him, tangling in the nooks of Shouyou’s hand behind his head. His lips move again, and again his words are silent. But Shouyou can read them clearly, ripping his eyes from his lover’s to catch the words _I love you_ from between his own teary gaze, and by the time he looks back at Tobio’s eyes, they’re open, glazed and staring at nothingness. 

“No, no, _no_! I love you too!” He yells desperately. “Tobio, fuck! I love you too! _I love you too_!” He hiccups, resting Tobio’s head back down and shutting his eyes, barely able to get to his feet as he stands up from the unmoving body. Paramedics shield it from view only seconds later, having burst through the door with a stretcher. From the door Kenma appears, passing by the cot Tobio was carried out on, holding a steeled expression while he stares at it. He bolts for Shouyou then, business suit and all, and takes him in his arms firmly as the redhead falls back to his knees and cries openly. Blood mingles in the navy fabric of Kenma’s suit-jacket, but even the wearer ignores it, listening to the echoes of voices around them, shedding small tears of his own. The tears sting Shouyou’s eyes, and his throat is tight and choking. After a few minutes he pats Shouyou’s shoulders and stands with him still clinging to him like glue. 

“Shouyou, hey, we’ve got to get out of here before things get worse. Come on, I’ll escort you to the recon vehicle,” Kenma urges softly. Shouyou makes no move to respond, but hobbles along with Kenma outside of the shed, ignoring the recon team as they retrieve Oikawa’s body. The walk is silent as Kenma leads Shouyou along, his injuries gradually becoming more noticeable as his unrelenting waterfall of tears brings him back down to earth. True to his word, Kenma leads him into a van, into the backseat where Tsukishima and Kuroo were planted in front of computers detailing stats and security camera footage. If Shouyou were looking up at the screens he’d recognize his senior officers. 

“Whoa, what happ—“ Kenma stops Kuroo short with a death glare as he seats Shouyou to the side for him to recover. Wordlessly, Kenma shucks Shouyou’s dirtied gear from him and takes off his vest. Shouyou doesn’t look up the entire encounter, not even as Kenma begins to patch his wounds. After all, there’s no patch for a broken heart.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have questions/comments/art you’d like to share (if you tweet me fanart or concept art of this fic I will adore you forever) here’s my [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/AriiDale)


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